Memoirs of a Shinobi
by blackraven23
Summary: The Memoirs of Naruto. Death is a terrible thing to bear. There are some that retreat into their minds for safety, some that run away, some that are able to bear death's weight. See them all. All Iruka needes is for him to say goodbye.
1. Still Playing Along

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

_Deep within the woods of the Fire Country, lying hidden between the leaves, is Konohagakure. A fan shaped village, the handle of the fan the Hokage monument; four faces carved into a slab of granite towering over the village as though it was a pedestal reaching up into heaven for the gods above. It is at the foot of this monumental mountain that we sit, in a semicircle, some crying, some staring into space, all preserving your memory. There are some missing today, and some that will never join us again. There are some that will retreat into their minds, and some that will run far, far away, and we will never meet again. _

* * *

Playing Along

**+Sakura+  
**

_spun sunlight twirling it around fingers, harp strings humming  
__a song that has no melody, but is hauntingly familiar.  
__love not a net that can be broken, but a person willing  
__to catch, when someone falls. hurry now, you'll miss the show.  
__but the show is you, and the act is over, are you still playing along?_

* * *

I don't understand why you did it. 

When the news came I was talking with Ino-pig, since we had just recently became friends again and a nice looking chuunin came up to us, asking if I was Sakura. I slid the ramen bowl in front of me to the side, some of the now-lukewarm liquid sloshing onto the tips of my fingers as it slid across the slightly bumpy table top. I nodded solemnly, ready for a mission assignment or something, but what came out of his mouth was not an assignment. I was going to tell him that I was on my break, a week long since my last mission to recover from the injuries, both physical and mental, before going on another. But he didn't tell me an assignment, what he told me was…

It was a curse on my ears.

I had stood, ready to dash off to the Hokage tower after he had briefed me to complain to Tsunade-sama that I wasn't ready to take another mission yet, but he didn't brief me. He reached up slowly behind his head and undid the knot that held the dark blue hitai-ate on his forehead, his eyes lowering to the ground as if in shame. What? I thought. Shinobis' only ever removed their hitai-ates when… when… His voice was weak and he stumbled over the words as if they hurt to come out of his throat. Well they should have. Ino stood up to listen too; I suppose she'll always be like that, eavesdropping on other people's conversations and lives. Do you know what he told me? Come on, guess. It would make you laugh.

He told me that you had died.

You can't be dead, can you? Konoha's life, her liveliness, the very epitome of life itself, couldn't be dead, now could he? This is one of your jokes, isn't it? This is one of your shams; you're going to appear tomorrow, as alive as ever, and I'm going to hit you over the head for making me worry about you. I'm going to wake up to hear you calling my name from underneath the wide bay window in the corner of my room, ready to throw another tiny rock at the glass to wake me up. I don't think my mom ever forgave you for the time you snuck into our house and into my room to wake me up. Yeah she got pretty mad, almost killed you. But she didn't kill you. She couldn't. No one could…

Right? Right?

Come on, answer me. No ones saying anything; even Ino-pig has fallen silent. Everyone in Ichiraku isn't speaking, all staring at the chuunin with dark and accusing eyes. Huh? Why is the ground coming closer? My legs didn't collapse, did they? I'm not hunched over on the ground, clutching at my heart in a desperate attempt to make it stop breaking, am I? You didn't mean that much to me, did you?

Come on, answer me. I know you can, because I know you're not dead. Your lively voice isn't gone from this world forever, to be left as a memory. Your grinning face isn't just going to be on faded photographs, is it? Your sapphire eyes aren't going to be just a lingering memory that I'll look back on when I'm older to smile at softly, are they? Your bright yellow hair isn't going to be just like your father's, the Yondaime's, a slowly fading tuft in the sunset, your speed just the same. It isn't going to be a memory, is it? You're going to be there, and we'll one day go out for ramen again, just like you always wanted. You'll finally get that date you wanted, and we'll laugh like old times, tell stories and just hang out. Like we used to.

We will, I know it. Come on; _just answer me, will you!_ Dammit, Naruto! Stop fooling with me! You're alive, I know you are; you're alive. Make what the chuunin said be a lie, let it be some cruel joke you've cooked up, just to see if we really care about you. We do, I swear it, we really, really do. So come out of the shadows or wherever you're hiding and prove the chuunin wrong. Prove the whole world wrong like you used to, like you still will. Are you pretending to be a bowl of ramen again, trying to fool us?

Come on, Naruto. Where are you? Where is your bright smile, your cornflower eyes, your sunny blonde hair? Where is your orange jumpsuit, your constant companion? Where's the hitai-ate that you're so proud of; come on, Naruto, where is it? Where are you? Because I know you're here, somewhere. I know that this is a joke; a cruel, cruel joke that you've pulled on us. Trust me, Naruto, its working. So please, please, come out of hiding.

My eyes can't see; all I can register is a blur of color, a palette the color of the sky for a moment, before darkness consumes my eyes and I feel something pulling on my arms. It's Ino, holding me back from killing the chuunin with the chakra surging through me. I desperately try to wrench my arms away from her, but to no avail. She's gotten her arms locked around my torso, her own hands grasping my wrists to keep me from making seals. I can see the chuunin turn tail and run, back to the Hokage tower, yelling ahead for Tsunade-sama. Once he's gone I hope Ino will release me so I can go chase him, or go find you, but she holds me fast against her chest. I can hear the beats of my heart, erratic and loud in my ears, as my breath puffs out in large gusts.

Tsunade-sama returns with the chuunin and she looks at me with sad eyes. I want to scream at her, but she's beside me in a flash, needle in hand. Whispering, "I'm sorry Sakura…" she injects something into my arm, and the fast acting drug starts to make the world hazy. The ceiling swims in and out of focus before I collapse against Ino, tranquilized.

* * *

I awake, strapped to a white bed in a white-washed room with thick leather cuffs around my wrists. Similar bands are wrapped around my ankles, I can feel their thickness, the grimy surface of the inside of the leather scraping against my skin. Again and again they scratch, as I struggle against the bonds, fighting the sedative that has poisoned my veins. I can't access my chakra, my body is too disconnected from my mind to do so. My back arches as I strain at the leather, the bed shaking beneath me as I thrash mindlessly on the mattress, mouth open in a silent scream. Finally, defeated, I lie down again, calming my breathing, attempting to assess the situation. Twisting my wrist, my fingers scrabble against the metal grommets and the buckle frantically, but to no avail. 

Wishing for my senbon or other devices, which I don't have, because I'm dressed in a revealing medical gown, I make do with what I have. I sink into the bed as much as I can, pressing my back deep into the thin mattress, feeling my spine dig into the protruding metal springs. I bring my hands as close as I can, and my fingers tug at the leather helplessly. However, my scrabbling seems to have some affect, since the buckle's hold soon lessens, and I'm able to undo the thick straps quickly. I undo my other wrist and both of my ankle restraints before the guards come rushing in. I stand in a defensive position, ready to fight, but the door opens and Tsunade-sama steps in. She motions out the guards and they leave, looking sullen.

"Sakura." She sits down on the edge of my bed and I drop my defensive pose, but remain standing, looking down at her in what I hope is disdain. "Sakura," she repeats, "sit down."

Sighing, I sit down next to her and she looks at me, her normally honey-brown eyes puffy and red. "Sakura… I'm so sorry… for your loss… Naruto… h-he was l-l-love-ed…" She's stuttering like Hinata and I put my arm around her shoulders, and she leans slowly into the embrace. She leaves later, but doesn't replace the bonds around my ankles and wrists. I promise her I won't run away; I have to say something at the funeral.

Your funeral is a week later, but all it really is a wake; really only a way for everyone to grieve freely. Everyone is here, everyone I can think of that is. Donning my pitch black robe, tying the knot in front of me, I wonder if I really should say something. Kiba and Shino were the ones to find you, they were the ones who burned your body on the spot, only leaving the hitai-ate and the First Hokage's necklace behind. They should say something, because they were the only ones who saw you dead. Maybe I shouldn't believe them, I think, as I step up to the platform to speak in your memory. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. They're all looking at me expectantly, but I can't speak. I collapse to the floor, yelling that you're not dead, and to take Kiba and Shino away.

_You're not dead, you can't be!_ I cry out as ANBU guards come to take me away. I struggle helplessly as they drag me to Tsunade-sama, who slips me a pill that takes the pain away.

* * *

When I awake again, more thick leather straps cuff me to the bed, the cords crisscrossing my body, tying me to the bed, and into my head. I retreat into my mind. I can't help it. You're gone and you're not supposed to be. 

People visit me now, occasionally someone I know or care about, but my eyes can't focus; my voice won't work to tell them things that go on inside of my head. They can't see my horrible nightmares that I wake from, sweating. They cant see me when I tear with my teeth at the leather that holds me down, struggle helplessly against the bonds that keep me restrained. They don't know how many times there has been anesthetic stabbed into my veins, they don't know how much it hurts to go into that dreamless sleep. They don't know my pain, Naruto. They don't know how much my heart bleeds for you, Naruto. They don't know that you're still alive, Naruto. That you're still alive to me, at least that's what I convince myself to believe.

_But you know that, don't you Naruto?_

* * *

mwahaha. am cruel. poor, poor sakura, going insane like that, over naruto. you all thought she would do that for sasuke, ne? nope. she goes insane over naruto. (shakeshead) poor, poor sakura. 

next up- Gaara. how does the new kazekage react to Naruto's death, and the death of the Kyuubi as well?

I'm thinking that Sasuke should be last, since he's the closest to Naruto. besides, his is the one i'll have the most fun writing.


	2. Indigo Skies of Remembrance

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

_It is here, in Sunagakure, that we learn of your death. A huddle of sand-whipped buildings surround a short earthen tower, the ripplinggrains ofwhite spread out around the village, as though it were drowning in a sea ofashensand.There are no people surrounding the tower that are mourning your death, for no one yet knows of it yet, as it is late at night.As the wan moon sheds her soft light over the pale sands, we see a jounin rushing across the dunes, eyes wide, sand hitai-ate glinting in the night's ghostly light. The jounin rushes towards the tower, stumbling before the entrance, but continuing on. A roar of rage comes out through the highest window a few minutes later, and we know from who it came. _

* * *

Indigo Skies of Remembrance

+**Gaara**+

_taking you, with a cry of something no one recognizes; no one knows…  
__the monster inside, freeing itself with a fight to a place  
__you cannot go, cannot find the beast that makes you this way.  
__giving into the growing desire for blood on your fingertips.  
__a dance across your skin; a bitter smile from within that red will trace…_

* * *

It was nighttime when the messenger arrived. I was awake, obviously, because of Shukaku, and was sitting at my desk when someone pounded on the door. It being almost midnight, I wondered who the hell it might be. Surely something had to be terribly, devastatingly wrong for me to be bothered this late, regardless of whether or not I slept. I was still the Kazekage, and I commanded the highest degree of respect and order over my shinobi. Insolent ninja, I thought disdainfully to myself as I motioned to the door with my hand and sand wrapped itself around the doorknob and opened the door. 

Except that the jounin that barged through the door was anything but insolent, at least most of the time. And he didn't _wait_ for the door to open by itself like he knew it would, he simply pushed straight past it, barging into my office like he owned it. Which he _didn't,_ I liked to point out to myself in my moments of slight melancholy, when I felt as though my order wasn't being upheld. He reached my desk and was huffing slightly, bent over, and I waited for him to speak, eyes half-lidded in a façade of disinterest. In fact, I was very interested in what he had to say, but if I told anyone that, they could use it against me. At least that's what Shukaku said, but who the hell listened to him anymore? Except me, of course.

Finally, though, the jounin stood up and managed to gasp in a trembling voice, "Kazekage… sir… Tsunade-sama told me… to tell you… that… Naruto-san… he died…" He must have said something else after that, but I couldn't understand it. I couldn't hear anything except the beating of my heart, pounding in my ears. My heart was a new addition to my body when I became Kazekage; I found it useful sometimes, it helped me express what I wanted to say to Temari or Kankouro, without having to threaten them. I must have been just staring at the jounin, some sort of surprised expression frozen on my features, since he leaned towards me, asking me if I was okay.

I don't know what happened then, something in me must have snapped.

"WHAT?" I exploded, standing so quickly my heavy chair fell over with a clang onto the wooden floorboards. Slamming my hand onto my desk, I raged, seething inside, a look of pure fury on my face and in my eyes. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, DEAD!" I roared again, and the jounin stumbled back across the room, fear rolling off of him in a sickening odor. I could feel the seal within me breaking, Shukaku's power pushing past the chakra swirls and binds, could feel the tension of Shukaku's chakra within me mounting, and I wondered how long I could keep control. The bloodlust I hadn't felt in so long came back, full force. I needed his blood; I craved the smell of his life on the floor in front of me, needed to feel that power that I only got when I killed someone.

I needed a release from this pain that was slowly poisoning my heart, killing me from the inside out. The pain clawed at my stomach and rose to my throat, blocking the air from reaching my lungs. It was strange, this feeling, this ache that I held in my chest. I had never before felt something like this, and to tell you the truth, it was not pleasant. Clenching my fists so tightly, blood seeped through my fingers, dripping to the floor. Release, release, release, I thought, but it didn't stop. My eyes were burning with something vaguely familiar, but I didn't know what it was. Was this what they called heartbreak?

Breath hitching in my chest, I closed my eyes and tried to calm Shukaku down. Leave! I cried into my mind, but he did not leave. His power raging through my veins, I opened my eyes, the normally blue-green depths turning a sickening black and yellow. I raised my hand and yelled, "GET OUT!" The jounin turned and ran, slamming the door behind him. 

Leave me! I yelled at Shukaku again, but he appeared not to have heard me. His chakra ripped at my skin, almost burning it on the inside, and I cried out in pain. A familiar consciousness pressed against my own mind and I recoiled mentally from its presence. Shukaku, get out of my mind! I screamed as loudly as I could, not knowing if I really yelled it, or it was just in my head. Shukaku's presence faded as my willpower pushed back his words until they were just a whisper in my mind.

_The kyuubi's gone as well you know, Gaara_.

I know, but I don't care!

_You should be rejoicing. Your rival has died… Why are you feeling this?_

I could feel the pain in my heart spread as Shukaku focused in on the feeling. I don't know! I thought.

_There's something missing, isn't there, Gaara?_

Yes, there is. Naruto's missing; he's gone.

_I've lost a rival as well, you know. Kyuubi and I always fought_…

Naruto's not only my rival! He's… He's…

_He is nothing to you! You want to kill everyone you've ever known, ever had to come in contact with. He was no different than everyone else. You do not…_ feel _for anyone… ANYONE! You love only yourself! No one else. No one else cares for you, so you care for none._

No! He cared for me… He was my friend…

_Liar! He cared naught for you, as no one else does. You are alone, but for me, and you always will be. Your killing nature separates you, elevates you above all the rest._

I do not wish to kill anymore, unless necessary… You know that!

_No! You wanted to kill that jounin. You wanted to feel that rush of power, the surge of adrenaline, wanted to feel his blood on your fingertips, craved to hear his dying words. You wish for his blood against your skin, his writhing, dying body against your hands, you dream of killing everyone you know… You dreamt of massacring this village last night, just because you craved the screams for mercy, the dark blood contrasted against the pale sands… You crave, you dream, you wish, you need blood to survive. _

No! I do not! Naruto cared about me, he knew me more than everyone else! He understands what its like to be separated because of what lies within you, he knows me better than you ever will! I don't care what you think; I know what you felt for the Kyuubi. I don't care if you hated him, but don't hate Naruto too, you bastard! You're just like everyone else, everyone I hate…

_If you hate me so much, kill yourself. Release yourself from this pain that haunts you…_

I can't! Mother protects me, and I can't escape her protection that bars me from pain, but also from liberation. You know this, yet you expect me to escape?

_You can break the spell anytime you want; you just enjoy lingering in your pain._

If that's what you believe. But what you believe may not be true.

_I know, Gaara… I know…_

His voice was growing softer, choked with more emotion than I had ever heard him have before. He was close to me… He was one of those few… Those few that _understood_…

_I know what you mean, Gaara… He was special to you… one of your few friends… He gave you purpose… he gave you a glimpse into a life you had never experienced, yet knew so much about… He knew you as well as anyone… that feeling you have; I know… what it is… Because I feel it too._

I struggled to stand as Shukaku's presence faded away; leaning heavily on my desk for my strength had left me. Standing, I wandered over to the window, the silvery light of the moon filtering in through the ancient panes, forming a crisscrossing pattern on my light skin. I let my forehead rest against the cool glass, closing my eyes against the tears that threatened their pale blue-green depths. I wish for sleep but it never comes, it never will come. The days fly past and I'm left in a timeless rift in the cords of life.

* * *

No, no, no, no… You weren't supposed to die… You were so real, so pure… You were so free like the birds that flit above the sands, you were the moon on a night so empty, as it hangs heavy in the sky. You were the night, ever changing, never once the same as it was before. I know, staying up many nights, watching the sky and waiting, searching for something that will never come, that you are like the night. Your eyes, like the twilight as the sun fades in the west, to rise again. 

And as the ocean blue sky fades to cerulean, I always watched as the stars began to appear, dotting the darkening skies as I wished for sleep. You were so similar to the night, always fading in and out, darkening, then to light again as though a candle had touched your skin. You were, on some nights as the cloudy skies were covered with a thin orange pane of color, all I could think of. Your words reverberated around my head as the silence of the night consumed the daily noises. It was all I had to live for. All I had to breathe in as the sulfuric salty sands blew into the air.

And as I lay there on the roof of my home, I came to realize you were my friend. It was a strange feeling, and I tried fruitlessly to rid myself of it, but on some level, I was pleased. You changed me, your words and your eyes and your smile, you changed me into realizing that there was something for me to live for. I don't know how you did it, but you changed the way I looked at the world. I don't want to kill anyone anymore, not without Shukaku forcing me too. And even then I wish not for it, not for the silence, the shame that snakes through me as I look into the eyes of my prey.

I don't see the darkness the same way anymore. The night is my memory of you, always around me when I need it the most, hiding me from my fears, rescuing me from the depths of my twisted mind. And in that hushed time between days, I remember you. You gave me strength, you gave me a heart, you helped me find my soul. The quiet remembrance of you helps me live through those days when I think I never want to deal with anything anymore and just want to let go. The darkness reigns in the night, but your moon sheds its silvery light over me, the cool breeze of your soul washing over my tired skin.

You weren't supposed to die, but you did.

* * *

Even so,my eyes are no longer empty; there is no more loneliness behind the dark and heavy lids of mine. Your memory gives me strength as I slip down the pale dunes, blood rolling beside me, weighted with the souls of their owners. The tears I used to cry late at night are alongside of me as I fight one more battle, the dark sky not ominous but full of hope. You transformed me, the mutated larva, into something beautiful I never dreamt to become. You were the catalyst that changed me from a bloodthirsty, malicious monster, into something human. Here I fight for my people, and it is you that brought me here. 

You gave me the strength for metamorphosis, and the strength to break free of the mold that held me. And for that I'll ever remember you, and thank you, Naruto.

* * *

beh sooo lame.. i know.. if anyone can tell me what the hell i was writing about in the middle part, please tell me? 

oh yeah reviews.. thanks SO much! xD

**Lady Kagome0101** **- **i'll explain it very soon.. i promise!

**madnarutofan**- just so you know... i didnt _plan_ on making her go insane.. i really was saving that for someone else... xP but im sorry if i made her.. uhh... not to your liking? but really i kinda dislike sakura.. oh well...

**Kai**- haha im planning on writing kakashi.. what i meant last time was that the last of the series of memoirs would be sasukes.. i didnt mean _only_ sasukes was left.. xP

**Preventer Squall- "**That's just evil! Not the Sakura going looney part, which I found rather amusing, but Naruto keeling over. " haha it made me kinda laugh too.. even tho its cruel.. oh well.. xD oh and um to answer ur question.. i think i have it how he died.. you'll just have to wait!

**ShinobiFighter101, ffgirl-07, BLAH BLAH BLAH likes the story****- **thanx!

**Big Daddy Cool** -oh um i didnt mean to make it seem as though she _loved _him.. i just meant like.. how you love your friends, you know?

**Hatake Naruto- **i.. uh.. umm.. okay? xP i didnt mean to make it seem as though they loved each other? srry.. but.. take it how u want..

lala.. oh can u tell me.. next chapter is either going to be temari and kankouro... or shikamaru... im not sure if i should include temari and kankouro.. but.. tell me.. would you? see ya!


	3. Burden of Truth

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

_High above the swaying trees that surround the Village Hidden in the Leaves, stands a person alone, face masked with unreadability as he stares into the distant horizon. He knows of your death, yet is waiting to be 'informed' of it, to confirm that you're really gone. His eyes are crushed and defeated, his heart heavy and tired while he waits. The anticipation is growing, sinking, settling in. The tension is spreading underneath his skin like a virus. For once his intelligence will gain him nothing but pain and loss. He realizes what a burden truth can be. _

* * *

Burden of Truth

+**Shikamaru**+

_its too late to ask the servant of darkness, his eyes crushed sable darkness.  
__ask if he's crying, although its too late for his answer, as they close.  
__heavy lids to heavier rain, everyone falls but they just wont get up.  
__been blind and now no one can see. leave behind the winter flourish,  
__ice beckoning, don't give up yet. cascading down waterfalls that only carry blood…_

* * *

There was something, always something, that said it would end like this. There was a part of my mind that constantly reminded me that this was going to happen, and I would eventually have to set down all of my thoughts protecting me and face the reality of the life I chose. But I never really wanted to _believe _that it would end like this, so suddenly, so young. I never wanted to know that life could end so abruptly while you weren't surrounded by friends but by enemies; not in your sleep or in your old age but in the daytime where you could see the faces you fought but you couldn't see your death speeding towards you like a bullet train and it nailed you straight in the soul. 

There was a day when I stood under the clear cerulean sky, looking out over Konoha from the Hokage monument, that I realized the deepness of your connection with me. There was a day when someone came up to me, and I knew what the scroll they held said inside, written in coal black ink, deliberate, slow strokes repeating the news of your death to eyes that wanted so badly not to believe. There was a day when the empty sky of sapphire never looked so dark with heavily ominous clouds that were simply phantoms of an imagination that knew reason too well. There was a day when life just simply should have stopped when you had; when the waxen foliage on gnarled trunks towering over everyone should have paused in their ripple of wind; when all life should have frozen, knowing deep within their heart of hearts, that something horrible had happened.

There was a day, when you died, Naruto.

And I wish that day had never come. I wished so hard then, on all the candles of birthdays past, when I had wasted their fiery glow on petty things, wishes that would never come true; I wished so badly that he would turn away from me, the sky growing clear again, while I stayed calm and still inside. Knowledge is a wonderful thing to earn and a terrible thing to waste; but intelligence and intuition, in part of the truth, is a curse sometimes when you just don't want to know anything anymore, you don't want the truth, you want to be soothed by lies. And I wished so hard that I didn't know anything, that this hunch would not come true, that you would not die. But not all wishes come true, and the news came to my ears whether I wanted to hear it or not. _Naruto, he has… passed on. Killed in action, I do believe… The Hokage wishes for your presence at once, Nara-san._

To hell with the Hokage. To hell with it, I didn't care. I turned on my heel and left, not to the Hokage tower as per requested, but towards the forest, to lose myself in the soft darkness under the heavy leaves that paint shadows, swirling in a vortex around my feet as my eyes are heavily lidded with weariness.

The spines of the mountains that arch up in front of me now remind me of a dragon, aching to touch the sky, feet bound to the soil beneath their claws, with chains that run deeper than the earthen core. The sleeping dragons are struggling to free themselves from the bonds that bind them, and fly free with their heavy, lacquered wings stretching far across the sky instead of forming the gentle slope of the mountain, veins protruding like crests of an ocean flowing down the earthen face. I know I am near to where you fought, I can feel it. I can feel where the enemies' blood trickled down the slopes of this mountain, caressing cold skin as it flowed past and sunk into the earth to make its way to the clear stream waters.

Tension growing in my chest, I sped on, leaves rustling above me in the waves of the wind that blew over the forest. Thick foliage over my head, coupled with the early afternoon sun, created startling shapes of jade color on the deep green grass that grew beneath the trees. I ignored this, the patterns of sun splaying across my skin before flitting away as I flew forward, dodging trunks and branches that whipped leaves at my face. There was a heavy stench of blood and death that hung in the air between the trees, and although I didn't have the nose of Kiba or Akamaru, I could smell the distinctive metallic odor before I reached the site of your destruction. A surge of adrenaline pushed me forward and I went with it, doubling my speed before stopping abruptly as the smell faded slightly. Turning, I jumped into a dusty clearing nearby, looking around for signs of a fight that were evident on all the trees nearby.

There were definite signs of a battle all around the clearing, and they were distinctive and open, so it was no ambush. You had a chance to fight against those who attacked you, knew who they were, knew their faces. If only you had lived for a little while longer, we could have figured out the identity of your attackers, and killed them justly in your name. If only you had lived, there wouldn't be any mystery to this day, to this life; there wouldn't be a doubt in my mind that you were alive and my friend. If only you had lived I would be watching the clouds flit by above my head, wondering only if I would get a mission soon, or what was for dinner. If only you had lived, I wouldn't be standing here, speculating how you could have died when you were so strong, so alive last I saw you, had such a strong affinity with life that nothing could have killed you, like nothing could kill the sun on a summer's day.

But something breaks this milk-white fantasy that I try holding up around my eyes and ears, blocking me from the full effects of this pain, blunting the knowledge of truth. I see, on one of the thick trunks of an oak nearby, a slanted gash that runs from a high branch, towards the ground, before creating a huge chasm in the earth at the trees roots. Recognizing this style of fighting with huge sweeps and large gashes from a few years ago, I turn, eyes flitting up and down the trunks of nearby trees, seeing similar marks. _I know this fighting style…_ I think as I see lines on the ground, made by something wide and made of metal, but light. The scrape runs diagonally from my feet, and I wander down the dusty ground along side it, until I'm standing in approximately the middle of the mark.

As I scrunch down until I'm about at her estimated height, I imagine myself with a tall fan, almost as tall as me, and run the end of it around in a line. Opening my eyes, I can see the imaginary line that I made, and it's almost exactly the same length as the one really gouged into the earth. _Temari…_ I think, and narrow my eyes. _Where there's one sand-nin, there's another…_ Looking around me, I see a tree marked with thin lines that seemed burned into its trunk, probably by chakra strings. I walk over to it, and run my fingers up and down the ridges, as if taking in the essence of the chakra that made the burns. My finger catches on something sharp, and I immediately withdraw my hand and glare at whatever cut it. It's a tiny dart, probably poisoned before, and it's made a hole in the bark where it killed the tree. I pull it out cautiously, for it could probably still have poison on its tip, and inspect it. Flayed ridges run up and down the metal sides, like shark teeth, and I recognized the craftsmanship immediately.

_Kankouro and Temari... But what about Gaara? Wait… didn't the Kazekage send Tsunade-sama a message about Temari and Kankouro running away after Gaara became the kage because they couldn't stand him doing something good for the village, and joined Otogakure instead? So its otonins who made this mess… _I concluded angrily, and threw the dart, disgusted, to the ground. Grinding my teeth, I made my way into the middle of the clearing, looking around at the signs of the battle. I could close my eyes and imagine…

* * *

_Temari leapt ahead of the group, seeing a flash of orange up a clearing before them; the wide fan she carried upon her back, held in place by her thick belt, banging against her skull as she arched her head to inspect the clearing without moving anymore. She motioned to her comrades to form a semi circle around the pair in the clearing, and snuck one eye around the trunk to spy on the two. What she saw shocked her, or at least the little she saw, to say the least. Naruto was holding onto someone, seemingly kissing them fiercely, and she watched, bewildered as to the reason behind this sudden act of passion. Shouldn't he be afraid of being killed by the sound-nin? _

_She learned the true reason behind the kiss, because the person Naruto was holding, slumped a moment later and collapsed to the ground without another word. Naruto was left standing, hands motionless as they were before on the other's shoulders, before sighing heavily. He pulled a scroll from a breast pocket on his torn and dirty olive-green vest. Biting his thumb, he pulled the scroll open, spreading the sticky red liquid over the characters, without a word. The scroll rolled shut, and he slapped it closed completely, before performing a series of hand seals, a summoning spell. This alerted Temari, and she motioned to her comrades urgently, and they moved in for the kill. _

_Suddenly, there was a large poof of smoke, and a medium-sized frog appeared amid the smoke a moment later, coughing and glaring at Naruto. Naruto appeared to be saying something to the frog, motioning with his hands to the person at his feet and to the back of the frog. The amphibian looked from the body to Naruto, questioning in his gaze as his eyes flitted from the shinobi that had summoned him to the unconscious person, but Naruto just shook his head. Naruto said something once more and Temari's gaze flickered up towards her companions to where they were hiding in the trees. This was… strange… Turning her attention back to Naruto, who had gotten the unconscious form of someone onto the frog's back, and was telling him to go back._

"_Go! I told you already, you don't have enough strength to carry us both! Just go to the village and make sure no one attacks you!" Naruto cried, motioning in the direction of the village, not far away, yet far enough away so he couldn't make it there quick enough._

"_But, Naruto-san! You'll surely be killed! My summoning must have taken all of your chakra, especially after all that running and hiding you had to do! Come on, I _can _carry you both! Get on!" The frog retorted, motioning with one of its webbed feet to his back._

"_No. I said to go back to the village. I'm sure I'll meet you there, just GO!" Naruto snapped angrily, and turned in the direction of Temari and her partners, as if he knew time was short._

"_But—"The frog began, but Naruto cut it off sharply._

"_JUST GO NOW!" Naruto yelled, and the frog, taking one last look at him, turned and ran away, the body on its back moaning ever so slightly as it hopped._

_Turning to his enemies, face painted with shadows, Naruto growled deep in his throat, and Temari was reminded that Naruto too held a Demon within his stomach. And this demon it seemed, was just itching to be released, and Temari knew, without a doubt, that it loved blood just as much as Shukaku. Blood was what it had fed upon, lived upon before its downfall, and she knew that the time spent caged within Naruto had not dampened its desires, in fact, it probably had alleviated them. However, Temari had a mission to complete, and so she motioned to her comrades and they attacked as one…_

* * *

I opened my eyes abruptly as I imagined the fight between you, Temari, Kankouro, and whoever else they brought along, as they surelydid, evidence marks all around me.I couldn't stand to see how you were killed, even if it was only in my mind. My mind, which had been thoroughly deprived of an imagination before as daydreams I could dismiss with knowledge, except now this _was_ the truth, could now imagine every kunai thrown, every blow exchanged. I could see you as you fought, chakra stores depleted, even the Kyuubi's chakra running low, still vicious and unrelenting in your movements. Blue eyes narrowed in concentration, senses painfully aware of every cut and bruise on your body, watching, waiting for the enemy to make a move. 

I could see you fight, but I couldn't stand to see you die. Seeing you die would make me believe that you actually _were _dead, and this wasn't just some strange dream that I would wake from, underneath the skies of blue as clouds drifted by. Blunt as my mind tried to be in telling me that you were dead, the protections I had set up against such things, such _beliefs _that were troublesome and trivial in comparison to the full picture of life and love and happiness, were too strong to be broken. My logic had denied me its presence, and I clung just to a shred of my previous existence, struggling not to fall into the impenetrable darkness of realization.

Unfortunately, this shred was brutally cut off as a glinting across the clearing caught my eye, and I drifted towards it, feet heavy and eyes tired. I bent down and picked up the object, and knew immediately that I shouldn't have. It was the First Hokage's necklace, then Tsuande's, then yours. You wore it always around your neck, proud to display what little wealth you had or it was just extremely special to you and you wanted to keep it close. I guessed the latter, as you always explained that it was 'Tsunade-baba's but she gave it to me 'cause I mastered a new jutsu!' and never once told anyone about how much it was worth, how it could have bought out the village since the metal it was created out of was so rare.

That's the way you always were with your friends, you knew the rarity of them for you, and kept them close as to not let them escape. But Sasuke escaped, and you were crushed; you were so different after the failed attempt to bring him home. Neji said you were the only one who could draw him out of the darkness, yet you failed, and you knew it. You believed that your friendship with Sasuke would be enough to keep him from going to Orochimaru, and the strength to beat Itachi. But it wasn't, and you lost your faith in friendships then. You retreated within yourself, never really talked to anyone anymore, even Sakura, the only other person on your broken team. Everyone you were close to started to fade away, like Sasuke's memories and eyes in the darkness of his flight. Your buoyant personality shriveled and died, you hardly smiled anymore, and your eyes were sable and defeated. I never once saw you cry, but I knew that inside, and on nights when you were alone, that's all you could do to stop yourself from dying on the outside.

Even with all of my intelligence and thought, I could not bring you back. I hardly understand anything about the human persona, I have to admit, and I know even less about emotions and feelings. So even with my IQ of over 200, my intense loyalty to anyone who was close to me, I couldn't do anything. You were my friend after the first Chuunin exam, and we grew closer over the years as the aftermath of Sasuke's betrayal left you in need of someone to depend on; after your best friend left for a perverted bastard and the girl you liked as a young teenager went onto bigger and better things. Both left you behind in each their own way, and you wanted so badly for them to return to you, your heart was breaking in your chest, it was bleeding, and you couldn't do anything to stop it. There was honestly nothing I could do, and I watched you as you started to fade away, withdrawing and turning inward because the people you had trusted had both betrayed and left you without a second thought in your direction.

You wanted to die so strongly for a while there; all along these years you wished to die because of discrimination, the unfairness of it all, the Kyuubi being sealed inside of you. You craved death, the blood that would trickle from your lips as you whispered goodbye to those that were never around. Something had broken within you when Sasuke left, and although you tried being yourself, it was just a simple façade, a cheap wooden mask to hide behind that never really worked. You never really healed, your smile, if you ever _did _smile, was crooked and lopsided, and your eyes were never the same shade again. They darkened to the color of the sunset that I sit in now, and for a while I wondered if they would turn black as night, black as Sasuke's hair and eyes and personality.

I wondered if you really _could _have saved yourself, kept yourself alive for just a little while longer. I wondered if you just sacrificed yourself, not to save the village or your friend, but because you wanted to die so badly. You just wanted to give up, let go, go to sleep and never wake up ever again. I wondered if you wanted to sleep forever in death's velvet embrace, escaping from all of your problems and misgivings and broken hearts, the bleeding of your multiple wounds not enough to kill you, so the last kunai was your own, and not someone else's.

I wondered if you had really broken down, tears falling down your face as you reached into your pouch, digging around until you could feel the kunai's slim handle beneath your fingers. Reaching farther in, you grasped the cloth wrappings tightly, pulled the blade out, and looked at it a moment with appreciative eyes. _Goodbye_, you whispered, and without another thought, slammed the silver knife into your throat, death claiming you.

But all I could do was wonder, since it was your choice, and you died alone; as alone as you had been all your life, as everyone is in death. For once you were no different than everyone else, and you could claimyour normality withyour final act.You were simply the same in death,yet nothing else as everyone else was, Naruto.

_You were special in your own terrifying way._

* * *

this chapter makes me sad. see these were supposed to be the memoirs and stuff while in reality learning about narutos death and reflecting on how he affected them. yet shika and naruto were never really close were they? not really... so i made this more of shika learning about death and emotions and Naruto, rather than about himself and what an impact narutos death was on his life. besides shika actually _did _something, rather than saying it was too troublesome. so that shows u the depth of his devotion? i dont know. besides, shika was always about collecting information and learning about everything else rather than himself... right? 

oh well.. sorry kai i didnt make it shikatem, cuz i dont really like them? but ull see.. this is only what shikamaru _imagines_, since he isnt _positive _that its true. DAMN just gave it away... XD

next up- when Hinata learns of her love's death, how does she take it? can she _lose her temper?_and which unlikely person does she turn to in the end?

orrr would u rather i did temari and kankouro or ino and chouji. u tell me. yay. i think shika spread his laziness to me, or its just too late, so im not gonna do reviews this time.. next time.. but thanx neways!


	4. Ghostflower Eyes Fade

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

Ghostflower Eyes Fade

+**Hinata**+

_on the silken sheets unfaithfulness lay,  
__pretty in uncertainty, breath tainted  
__ghostflower ridden eyes are empty  
__and now you desperately need warmth.  
__but all that surrounds you is your sorrows,  
__a soft melody that bleeds you dry_

* * *

I was always known for my sensibility; my calm, somewhat sophisticated sort of silence, often paired with timidity for fear of saying something that would provoke unneeded violence. Even when I grew older, my timidity only seemed to grow as the date of my coronation as the Head of the Hyuuga Clan grew nearer, for I feared that I would end up making the same mistakes as many of my predecessors, thus extending the hate associated with the Hyuuga houses upon many generations when it could have been stopped. However, oftentimes around my friends, I would be open and cheerful, my stuttering would fade away and I wouldn't have to worry anymore about being the Head of the Clan, because they didn't care one way or another. 

However, this silence also gained me many things, brought me much knowledge, as it could be discerned as a frightened silence to my enemies, giving me time to assess their weaknesses; it could be seen as a respectful silence to other Clan Heads and to other Hyuugas; it could be seen as indifferent sort of silence to those whom I disliked, and although I was not talking down to them, as I would never, they would be infuriated by my impassability, yet were powerless to do anything about it. So it was often that I sat in silence, practiced in it, as many Hyuugas enjoyed meditating to calm their minds and bodies, but I never really enjoyed the obligatory silence I was encouraged to possess. It was a personality type that was forced upon me as a young child, in the face of my father, as was my natural submissiveness and timidity. However, I oftentimes used the silence to my advantage, letting my tormentor thinking they had won the battle, but in the end I always won the war. As I grew, I molded it into a sophisticated sort of air I held about me, as was expected of the heiress to the prestigious Hyuuga Clan; and in the end I relented and let it permeate my conscious thought, finding I made better decisions while calm and quiet.

It was this silence, this quiet, that I tried desperately to hold onto when I heard the news. Yet it slid past my fingers, beyond the far reaches of my mind, like silk that could not be grasped and fell into the silver stream below the wooden bridge upon which I stood. I often took walks around the Hyuuga compound during the sunset hours, enjoying the scenery and the slight breeze that I had been denied as a child; forced inside to practice the Byakugan that I just couldn't learn properly, and thousands of techniques that I was always deemed too weak to do in the end. I stopped on a delicate wooden bridge, and began staring down at the flowing water beneath the slim wooden slats. In my hand I held a slender white rose, the tips of which were painted a light pink. The path was lined with thick white stones and filled in with light brown pebbles which rolled when I walked over them. Nothing in the Hyuuga compound was rough or unpolished, everything gleamed with the ultimate precision, and nothing was left untouched. Nothing in the Hyuuga lifestyle was unrefined; everything was sophisticated, washed over with millions of soapsuds, but nothing could hide the ugliness of the Hyuuga hierarchy, no amount of lustrous black lacquer could hide the scratches and dents made in the rough wood of the Clan, nothing could disguise the smell of betrayal amongst family, the division according to birth.

Nothing in the Hyuuga compound had any color; all of the rooms in the Main Complex are made of the traditional thin white screens and in the Branch Annex, they're made of slightly thicker, beige screens; nothing there has feeling or the makings of a home, its just empty and desolate and cold. I slowly peeled off a white petal from the rose, feeling the gossamer skin against my own, let it slide from my thin fingers, to float down to rest on the waters that would take it far away from this oppressiveness, this empty place of no return, where the only person who saw its beauty was supposed to destroy it without a single thought. Someone came up to me while I was slowly peeling off the second petal, pretending to watch the pink edges fray about my fingers, while I really was watching them draw closer to me on the white-stone lined path.

He reached me, bowed, and said respectfully, "Hinata-sama."

I ignored this gesture as I had been subjected to it too much when I was younger; I continued my work on the rose, a sick feeling growing within my chest as he spoke on, slowly untying the black hitai-ate wrapped around his forehead. "Hinata-sama… There has been news from the Godaime… Naruto-san has—" The petal I had been pulling on suddenly ripped in half with a jerk as I realized what he was saying. He finished whatever he was saying in a low voice, I didn't even need to listen to the words to know what he had said. I let the torn petal float downwards, drifting on a waft of air, my moonstone eyes trying to focus on its milky surface, but failing miserably. I could feel my calm slipping away from me, the silence I had so perfectly constructed to protect my true self from harm. It was falling with the petal, being washed in cold water until I could barely breathe, the shock taking my breath away. But as the icy feeling of nothingness faded away, a wave of anger took over me.

"Who killed Naruto?" I said quietly, my voice low and dangerous, a tone I hadn't used in years, if ever.

"We're n-not sure, Hinata-sama… Nara-san has g-gone to inspect the a-area—" He stuttered, almost like I would have, had it been years ago and I wasn't forced into being hard and heartless like my family.

"Who. Killed. Naruto?" I repeated, as though I was talking to a young child.

I understood the Hyuuga rage; it was calm, it was cold, it was thoughtful and almost indistinguishable from our normal personas if looked upon from outside, but it was overwhelming inside. Just because we never showed anger, did not mean we did not _have_ anger; and often, because we were so inexperienced in expressing our rages, or dealing with them when they became too much, we went on killing sprees, carved paths of destruction into mountainsides, or simply crushed anything that got in our way. Feeling this anger taking over me, I clutched the stem of the rose, feeling the thorns dig into my skin, and I relished in the sudden pain. Pain could distract me, pain could save me, pain could remind me of my place in the world, could remind me that I had no power of death. A reddened drop of blood slid down my pale skin, collected at my wrist, stretched into a droplet like tear, and fell down to disappear into the twisting light blue waters at my feet.

Blue chakra was spinning under my skin, begging to be released, and I could feel my presently dormant bloodline limit activating. The rose began to grow an eerie flickering blue as chakra collected around my fingers, twining around the stems, to collect in the center of the rose. Suddenly, with an undeniable urge to do so, I grabbed the head of the rose with my other hand, and ripped it off furiously, watching the pale petals float in the light breeze, the stem falling slowly to rest under the skin of the water. My silver eyes hardened with the Byakugan, veins protruding from my thin face as I whirled to face the chuunin.

"WHO KILLED NARUTO!" I demanded of him, and watched angrily as he started backing away, palms raised in protection against me.

"Now, Hinata-sama… Please! Please, I don't know how he died! Please just go to the Godaime—Hinata-sama! NO!" he cried desperately as I advanced towards him, he tripped backwards down the path lined with the moonstones so like my eyes. Stumbling, he regained his footing as I walked towards him, chakra pooling around my fingers, sliding up my palms, until I could feel my power mounting.

He could not turn his back to me and run away as he wished, that would be disrespectful, besides he knew that I would strike him if he did any such thing. However, after all of the years of going on missions and fighting against adversaries, I had not gained many morals to abide by while angry at someone who posed any sort of threat to me. My timidity had long since faded away when I wanted to fight someone, and right now he was telling me that Naruto, _Naruto_ for God's sake, had DIED. There was nothing that could hold me back; I would kill anyone in my way.

Then his ocean blue eyes unexpectedly struck me, filled with tears and desperation, and in my anger I remembered Naruto's eyes. They were so similar, the determination was gone and replaced with fear, but they were still so the same. How dare he defile Naruto's eyes, how dare he hold the same color in his orbs that Naruto held! Suddenly I lunged forward, chakra forming a sharp spike on the tips of two of my fingers, and I slammed my fingers into his stomach, before whipping around poking several points on the back of his neck. He shook with the ferocity of my blows, unable to do anything but stare at me blankly as I completed my Hakke Rokujuyon Sho Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms, delivering blow after blow to his torso and neck. Finally I had finished, and I stood back, breathing heavily as I glared at him, Byakugan still activated. He simply stared at me blankly, eyes empty and unfeeling as they bored into my white ones, before he promptly slumped to the ground, unconscious or dead, I could care less.

I gazed at his motionless form for a moment more, heavy eyes half-lidded, hands hanging by my sides before realizing what I had done. My anger, the uncontrollable urge to kill heartlessly, had washed over me like an ocean wave, taking my sanity away with it. But the ocean swelled back, returning my senses to me, and I breathed in the heavy scent of death and the sweet smell of the earth and the air. The thick foam whirled around my feet, drawing me backwards, over the thin wooden slats that formed the bridge, and I was running in the opposite direction, and I didn't even know it until I saw the trees flying past me.

I knew that people from the Hyuuga compound would find the body and take it away; by the time I returned it would be gone. I didn't even know where I was going; I just let my feet guide me over branches and under waxy leaves that lazily nodded under the darkening sky. Stars were forming in the navy heavens; the round globe of the moon was already visible even underneath the heavy foliage. Finally reaching my destination, or so I believed, I stopped abruptly in an empty clearing, shaking all over as the news of Naruto's death sunk in.

Only when I was sure of my destination and I knew I was alone did I allow myself to crumble. Slowly, I knelt in the scuffed dirt, eyes wide and blank as I stared into the dark trees that now blocked the moonlight from reaching my face. I was tired, oh so very tired of everything, all the pressure and it consumed me, pushed me out of your gradually fading light, your now sunset sunshine. It had dimmed with your departure and I could feel the darkness resting on my heart, pulling me into the space between night and day, a heavy dusk that settled about my skin as I wearily stared into the distance, unfeeling. I let myself fall to the ground; this was no fairy tale, there was no one there to catch me or to hold me in the cold, dank air of night. I lay there quietly; it was a strange, washed out defeated kind of tiredness that beleaguered me, one that permeated the chilly air and I was eventually forced to breathe its musky scent as the unbroken silence slowly muffled my soul with exhaustion.

As I lay unmoving, I tried desperately to remember your smile so faded, your cheerful face, but it was impossible to imagine something so distant. Heart aching I attempted to feel as though you weren't gone, and you were standing right there in front of me, offering a hand to help me up. I tried to feel your kindness, your happiness, but I couldn't. You were gone. My face crumpled as I realized I could not remember you properly, none of your memories could touch me anymore, it was as though you had never existed for me. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and I hunched my shoulders to prevent myself from crying. I closed my eyes when I heard someone coming, their slow, deliberate footsteps echoing over the path of the hill. I knew the walk, completely silent to all that were unfamiliar with its strange sound, but I ignored them as they drew closer and closer to my unmoving form.

"Hinata," his unused, gruff voice was softened with… compassion?

I didn't move, I had frozen my body in a place where even he, with his hard spoken truths that cut away the cobwebs of my protection, could not reach. He walked closer, reaching out with one hand to lightly touch my shoulder, shaking me.

"Hinata," he repeated, "Hinata! I know you aren't asleep."

I turned my body away from him, rolling until my face was nearly in the dirt, until I could feel dust swirling up my nose and I could smell the water deep beneath the surface. My mind and body had inverted so clearly, I had turned so coldly into myself that any extroverted sign to anyone I knew was impossible. Cold prickled my skin and my fingers were throbbing as they were resting under the weight of my hip, against my burning skin underneath my jacket.

"Hin—" he began again, his grip tighter on my shoulder, while the snowy anger common to many of the Hyuuga Clan came back full force, suddenly and unexpected. I twisted my torso abruptly, slamming my chakra-powered palm in the direction of his stomach, but he knew me too well. He grabbed my flying wrist with a painful accuracy, and stared down at me in silence.

"Hinata. Stop." He said calmly, staring at me from behind two dark, round glasses that I couldn't see behind and knew not what lay beneath the shadowed lenses.

However, I was unwilling to listen to his logic, and I swung my foot at his legs, hoping to catch him off-guard, but he jerked me upright by the wrist suddenly, and I was thrown against his chest, the momentum of my kick pushing me forward.

"Let me GO!" I cried, beating my fists against his chest in a desperate, vain attempt to make him let go of me. In response he simply held me closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders until I was pressed against his high collar, breathing in his scent of wind and crushed pine needles. Suddenly I was shaking all over, tears falling down my face as I finally broke, my anger simply sliding away until I was left empty, cold, and broken.

"It's okay Hinata… get it all out… its okay…" he whispered, his hands rubbing circles around my back, his breath pooling over my hair to soften in my ears. I clutched his jacket closer to me, attempting to bring some of his warmth into my cold body.

I had loved you, sought out your smile and laugh like the beacon of a lighthouse, while I was afloat in a sea of worry and self-doubt. You had guided me towards the land where I was finally able to establish myself. Your light and your warmth had protected me, given me strength in storms of uncertainties when I was lost and cold. But when I had finally warmed myself and stood upright on my own two feet, I held close to your memory, a shred of the past to guide me even when you weren't there to help me along. However, you had changed from that affectionate, open boy that you were years ago, and I clung to the past as if you would suddenly appear as before, running around and yelling cheerfully. You never did, and I finally realized I didn't need you as my pillar of strength any longer; but still I tried to hold onto that memory of you. It tied me to the past, when I was still in need of your help, when I was still timid, naïve, and young. When I still needed you; I never wanted to let your memory go, but it was wasting me away.

Now you're gone, and I'm forced to let you go, move on by myself, and try not to look back. But I will, I know I will, and I know that a little bit of your memory will always live inside of me, your smile, your laugh, your eyes will forever ride in my heart, and I will never forget. But you're part of my past now, and although I don't love you like I did back then, your love will always be with me. Your strength will give me strength when I need it most, it will give me calm, it will power me until death. And even now, as Shino wraps his coat around me to give me warmth, I can feel your memory giving me strength to stand on my own two feet, can feel my tears drying from moonstone eyes as Shino takes me arm and I lean against his side as we walk away. I can feel your sapphire eyes on me from wherever you may be, smiling as I think of you, finally able to hold myself upright while thinking of you.

You gave me strength, you gave me resolve, you showed me the way to go through the heavy clouds that poured insults and doubts over me, pooling around my feet, holding me back. You parted the clouds, lighting the path I should take, and dried up my past fears and let me take steps forward. And although you're gone, you'll live with me through times of worry and show me the way again just like before.

* * *

awww hinata was my FAVORITE to write! well at least the beginning where shes all mad xD i was gonna update sooner but ya see... there was lots of hw on thursday and on friday well.. i was doing stuff... oh well! i love the postal service.. listen to their songs! thank you all of you reviewers.. :) made me so happy... oh and yeah the last chapter was supposed to be dedicated to glennon cuz it was his bday the day i updated! yay! happy bday glennon! oh and ive always wanted to go into detail about the hyuuga property and stuff... hehe forgive me... 

next up- Kiba! When someone becomes so reckless they'll do anything you tell them, how do you bring them back?


	5. The Caged Beast

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

_The rain is continuous, sheets of grey upon an even darker silver sheen. The trees shiver in the gusts of wind, and it is here that we find you. In the blood pools that are darker than the sky, darker than your eyes in the half-light, darker than your heart when it realizes. Not far from Konohagakure, the place familiar, but not enough to draw a memory. The leaves shake droplets of icy water onto your hair, and you hurry on, ignoring your heart which is beating hard against your ribs. The chest in which is locked a terrifying beast, behind locked white bones._ _

* * *

_

The Caged Beast

**+Kiba+**

_The lump in your throat isn't wearing down  
__Even though the wine you drink is drowning you  
__And you let yourself hope, believing  
__Maybe it will take the pain away  
__Just one more time_

_Before the beast you covet in your chest  
__Slashes apart your organs and makes you bleed  
__And it cracks open your ribcage, then escapes  
__Leaving you empty in its wake_

* * *

It was a cold, rainy day when I went into the woods with Shino, on a mission looking for survivors. The sky was grey and cloudy, throwing torrential, burning rain onto the shoulders of my jacket as we hurried through the dripping leaves, darkened branches blocking my sight, while the wetness only enhanced my ability to smell. There was the lingering, heavy scent of death and blood nearby, and it made shivers run down my skin that couldn't be associated with the ice in the air. Anticipation crawled up my spine as Akamaru barked a few trees up ahead, saying 'Come on I think we're getting close!' I passed a double ended kunai, lodged deeply into a tree, shuriken marks slashing the tree, crisscrossing in a pattern I couldn't decipher. The rain fell into my eyes as I hurried ahead, apprehension tightening my chest and making it hard to breathe. Suddenly Akamaru stopped below me, in a clearing, standing and staring. I jumped ahead and landed beside him, and was frozen just as he. 

_What the?_ I thought, seeing the blood that pooled around numerous corpses, all grotesquely disfigured. They were faceless, as their bodies were burnt and riddled with cuts seen even underneath the crusted skin. Their skin was mottled and reddish black, their clothes invisible or stuck to their skin. _Burnt to their skin_. Their lifeless bodies seemed so empty, I thought, looking around, dumbfounded at the gruesome sight before me. The surrounding trees were tinged with burnt leaves, and ashes collected around the trunks. What happened? Shino was beside me in a moment, and although I couldn't really tell, I thought he was just as speechless. Not that he talked much, mind you.

How were we going to find survivors in this?

Suddenly Akamaru barked, making us jump in surprise, and we turned to him. He was pointing to something with one quivering paw, and I could see something moving in the shadows. I blinked the rain from my eyes, struggling to see through the darkness dripping from the leaves overhead. The form was small, although that wasn't unusual in our profession; ninja's were generally smaller because then their center of gravity was lower, and it was easier to hide if you were small. The figure was dripping with blood, I could smell it on them, and was close to dying. Akamaru barked again, fearfully, and this time he said, 'His power, it's huge!'

"Who's there?" I called out, taking a kunai from out of the leather pouch behind me, ready to strike. Nothing, nothing in the world, could have prepared me to see who I saw. Nothing, nothing, could have prepared me to feel all of the sadness clenching my throat and stomach, the fire building in my lungs and striking at my eyes.

I saw you, Naruto, dripping in blood. Your eyes were red, and you were almost glowing. I could feel the chakra ripping through the air, burning at my fingers and face, every intention of killing me on the spot written all over you. Your clothes were ripped and although there was blood all over you, the only place there was something in your skin was at your neck. A silver kunai was lodged in your throat, but you still stood. Your forehead protector glinted in the dull light from the clouded sun, under your shock-yellow hair. I stood in shock for a few moments, before rushing, running to your side. You collapsed into my arms, red eyes fading to aqua, blue eyes bleary and crinkled around the edges. You were so light, Naruto, in my arms.

Through the blood that streamed from your neck, you coughed up a few words, as well as fluid. The rain pattered onto your skin, sliding downwards like the tears on my cheeks. Your eyes were soft and so blue at that moment, in the rain that fell like razors upon our skins, and as the light settled upon you and me, I felt like we were the only two people in the world. You said, softly, blood gurgling in your throat, "Say goodbye… to—" but you didn't manage the rest. Your eyes slid closed, and you were still.

It seemed so sudden, and you were gone. Ripped from our world and into the next, and I didn't know who killed you. Tears streamed down the tattoos on my cheeks, dripping onto yours, sliding down the scars on your skin that never healed, never went away. I would find who killed you, and kill them. I would, I promised you, myself, gods, and everything in the village of Konoha. Shino was standing beside me, and I curled you up towards me, your bones sliding easily around in my arms, your blood staining my jacket. I pressed your forehead against mine, feeling it grew cold, my arms tightening around your back. I never wanted to let you go.

Suddenly Shino's hand clasped my shoulder, and I jumped. "Kiba. It's time to go. There's no one else here." He was gruff and to the point, and I knew we needed to go. But I didn't want to; I didn't want to leave you. As if reading my mind, Shino said, "We'll bring him with us. If we leave now we can get there before nightfall." I picked you up in my arms; you were so light, cradled you to my chest, tears still falling.

"Let's go," I said, and we leapt back up into the trees, Akamaru following close behind.

* * *

Its night, the darkness has fallen over the world like a blessed blanket, shielding everyone from view. Alcohol poisons my system, draining the memories from me, pulling away the pain that would overcome me if I were sober. How many days ago did I find you? How many nights have I gone sleepless, plagued by fragments of memories of you? I've lost count, everything's a blur. The streetlamps flicker uncertainly under the heavy hand of the dark, slipping together until they're only smudges on the screen of night, hidden from my eyes as the brown orbs slide downward, watching my feet lead me home. The oppressiveness of the darkness is impossible to ignore as it presses down everywhere on my body, its heavy hands pulling at my clothes, grabbing at my invisible shadow until the world is as sluggish in my eyes as I feel. Akamaru is walking solemnly by my side, whining ever so slightly when I don't pick him up or even acknowledge him. I just _can't_. I can't do anything, anything at all. When I reach my apartment, I forget where I left my key, and all the windows and doors are locked. I could look for it, or even just pick the lock with a senbon or kunai, but what's the point? 

I walk over to the window slowly, gazing in its reflective surface for a few moments. I see, in the cool, calm light of the moon, my mirror image surrounded by darkness. I look so gaunt, eyes hollow, dark circles around each eye, only intensified by the soft hood rimmed with black animal hair that shadows my face. The red tattoos on my cheeks are dark, almost black, while my normally brown skin is fading to alabaster. I don't care, nothing matters anymore. Suddenly your face takes the place of mine, eyes growing large and fading to almost indigo in the darkness, cheekbones rounding out and scars tracing three lines on each cheek. You're staring at me with such innocence, such happiness in your eyes; it's hard to look at. I reach back, fist curled, and smash the pane easily, chakra sliding around my knuckles against the window to crack the glass even further, a strangled, animal-like cry escaping my lips. I let my hand drop, defeated, staring at the broken reflection of what is now myself, seeing my eyes filtered into a million different images, all looking more gruesome than the last. The claws on my fingers reach up and slash across the spider-webbed pane, screeching dangerously high in my sensitive ears. Akamaru whimpers, afraid, as another throaty animal call breaks from me. I can feel the pain ripping through my chest, rapidly consuming me, and can feel my anger growing. I whip my hand across the window once more and it comes crashing down, the glass shattering on impact with the stone.

No alarms sound, and no one comes running. There are no red and blue lights, bloodying the air and then soothing it with blue and white. No high pitched sirens, blazing lights and screams fill the air. Nothing is here on the empty street with the empty man staring at a broken window, glass pooled around his feet, looking like death and wishing for it with every inch of his being. Nothing is here, but me. And I wish I wasn't. Blood drips from my curled fists and from my fingernails, and there's a large stain on my jacket, but it's not mine. That escape, that release of life, isn't mine. It's yours, and I wish it wasn't. I jump inside, ignoring the fragments of my reflection scattered on the sidewalk, and retreat to my bedroom. Akamaru trails me warily, afraid that I might hurt myself.

Moonlight filters through my windows, settling on my slouched form, since I've curled up on the end of my bed. The covers are tangled around my ankles, my stained jacket lying in a crumpled heap next to my desk. Without the protection from the cold given by my coat, I'm shivering in the iciness that permeates the glass. No tears fall from my cheeks though, my eyes vacant and unseeing as I stare dreamlessly out the window. Akamaru can smell the liquor on me, and knows what it can do to me if I let it. And I do, oh so willingly, without a trace of regret. Empty bottles are scattered across the floor, some overturned and empty, a few on my night table that have some amber liquid left in it, next to drained glasses that stand like witnesses in a courtroom of my sorrows. Clutched to my hollow chest is a whiskey bottle, half consumed in only a few minutes of my arrival home and yet I'm already too far gone to drink any more.

Akamaru comes to stand beside the bed, whining at me, even though he knows it's useless in my catatonic state. He claws at a dangling end of the cover I'm lying on, and I struggle to ignore his tactics, even though it's growing to annoy me. Just as my irritation seems to reach an all time high, his claw snags at the fabric, and it jerks beneath me, rolling me forward. Roaring angrily, I turn and smash the bottle down on the carpet, only a few inches from his head. The end explodes and whiskey flies everywhere, spilling from the broken glass to pool on the rug. Akamaru whimpers and I'm drawn from my alcohol-induced daze and its as though I see him for the first time.

"Oh… Akamaru… I'm so sorry!" I say softly, dropping the neck of the bottle to the floor and motioning towards Akamaru with my hands. "Please come here, I'm so sorry!" He crouches, gazing warily up at me for a few moments, then comes at my calls. I pick him up, feeling the bones beneath the scraggly coat, and wonder how long it has been since I last fed him proper food. I pull him to me, burying my face in his neck for a moment, feeling his warmth spread to my frozen face, then put him down. He curls up against me, and I can feel him radiating heat through the fishnet shirt and plating on my chest. I pet him softly, slowly running my fingers over his fur the rest of the night, back to staring mindlessly out of the window in silence.

* * *

I go to the Hokage tower the next morning, headache forming slowly, pressing against my temples. It's been a few days, and I know that soon there will be your funeral. There is a new coat on my shoulders instead of the old one that still reeks of alcohol and blood. Still, the scent of liquor must hang around me for Tsunade stares at me strangely. But then again, it might have been the words I said just moments before. 

"You want a mission? Now? You know in a few days it'll be—"

"I know." I say, abruptly cutting her off. I can't hear the word funeral, it would be too much.

"Are you sure?" She looks at me, as if she can see the truth beginning to unwind from where it's bound in my stomach, making me want to vomit.

"Yes. Give me a mission, any mission." I snap, muscles tightening under her steady gaze.

"You don't look okay," she says, walking over from behind the heavy oak Hokage desk, removing my hitai-ate and pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. It's slightly warm, but definitely not feverish. She leans down and peers into my eyes, taking in the exaggerated circles surrounding them, the reddish rims, and the glassy surfaces. "Have you been drinking?" She asks, standing straight again.

"No." I lie, and I wish myself to look like its true, that I'm not lying to the Godaime, to the village, to my friends, to everyone, even to myself. I wish that I wasn't lying, and I could admit that I could find solace and peace from anywhere else but the bottom of a liquor bottle. I'm not sure about anything except that I want to leave, get out of Konoha before the _service_, and go on a mission anywhere to do anything. As long as it's far away from the village; far away from the flowers and regrets that will fall from the skies to rest upon the shining casket as it winds its way through the village's crowded streets. At least that's what I hope, even if I'm not there to see it.

She sighs heavily, and I know she doesn't believe it in every word that she speaks. "Okay. If you want to go on a mission you can." She reaches across the desk and picks up a scroll, unrolled it and sighed again. Finally, after a long while she gives me a mission, and I disappear from the room silently. Although I'm gone, I can still hear her whisper to nothing, "Naruto wouldn't have run away…" but it slides past me and I don't care, I'm already empty.

The mission starts immediately; I'm to report to the Village Hidden in the Mist, in the Water Country. I head out, without going home or telling anyone that I'm going, least of all Shino or Hinata. They hadn't visited me yet, or in any case I hadn't been home to know if they had been by. But we were the best tracker team in the village, so if they had wanted to find me, they could.

_But they didn't,_ I think traitorously to myself as I slip into the forest surrounding the village. Akamaru is in the trees ahead, already scouting, and trying to get as far away from me as possible without seeming to and without leaving me behind. There are a thousand different smells laid out before me, of a million different ninjas and people and animals and bugs that roam the forest, an intricate pattern of interweaving colors creating a puzzle that I don't want to know the answer to. I trail behind Akamaru for the rest of the day, senses alert and heightened when the sun sets in the west and night falls.

The night is slightly cloudy, and the moon makes silver shadows on the grassy ground below me. I ignore it, I have to. Akamaru's familiar red color line suddenly flares crimson, a warning that I can't ignore, and I hurry forward. I sense a group of ninjas not far ahead, hostile and heavily armed. It's a solo mission and I have to take them out by myself, although Akamaru will be at my side.

Without warning, I was surrounded by the black-clad ninjas, and my kunais were out and ready. Akamaru jumped beside me, teeth bared and a growling low in his throat. Then the ninjas advanced, together as one, a fluid group of the night sky without stars, silver blades glinting in the cool light of the moon. But their glimmering blades did not faze me, and I fought.

Dangerously close to death, dancing on the edge of life, the searing edges could not find me in the darkness, and I closed my eyes. I dared the night without stars, the silver blades, the pain, the memories, to take me; I dared them to touch me as I flowed easily between the flickering swords. Reckless abandon swept through me and the feeling of that I didn't care suddenly overtook my body. My movements grew daring, leaving bigger and bigger open spaces in my defense to hit, but none did at first. Then a sliver of pain flashed across my chest, and I ignored it, a strangled animal-like roar bursting from my lips as I drew my kunai across the throat of yet another night-cloaked ninja. I could feel their bodies around me, could feel the cool, slick surface of their katana's blade covered in blood across my cheek as I danced close to one, stabbing it smoothly behind the skull. The sticky red substance spurted across my jacket and the still-hot vital fluid spattered my face, joining the unknown tears that were flowing there. The pain everywhere across my body was growing, and as I searched, blind eyed, in the darkness, for one more to kill, one more for me to relish in their defeat, I realized there were none left.

I opened my eyes, looked at my blood-covered palms, my new coat, now drenched in the vital fluid, saw the pain I had been straining to release from my chest, released into now dead bodies. A painful howl escaped me, ripped through my throat, burning my mouth with its rawness. I saw it all, felt it all, and I collapsed to the ground, arm supporting barely supporting me as I became violently sick upon the ground, vomit joining the blood that soaked into the dust, staining forever the plants that grew there. I retched up the entire contents of my stomach until only bile came out, and then began coughing. I heaved up stomach fluid at first, and then came the blood. Coughs wracked my body, my frame shaking all over, muscles convulsing, hot and cold all at once. I reached up to stifle a cough, and hacked up blood into my outstretched palm. I stared at my palm, and then violently wiped it on the ground as my body doubled over again, and I hacked up even more blood. I stayed that way for the longest time, bent over, coughing, trying to rid myself of every bad memory, everything I knew. But no matter how much I tried, the memory of your blue eyes stayed with me, the memories of your pain.

The memories of your death.

Slowly, painfully, I stood up, stumbling across to an oak close by. Akamaru whined at my feet as I leaned heavily on the rough trunk, ragged breathing obvious as I pressed my hand against my chest, where a trickle of blood once was that was turning into a steady flow. _I can't die like this. I can't die alone, like you, Naruto. I can't die. I can't. I can't…_ My thoughts streamed off as the darkened tree tops wavered before my eyes. _I can't!_ This thought propelling me, I stood shakily, blood dribbling down from my mouth, and made my way into the trees. It was hard to see, and my nose was overcome by the smell of death all over me, mixed with blood and vomit, and it was terrifying to navigate through the treacherous branches in the night.

When I neared the village, a branch caught me in the chest, a searing pain flew through me, and I fell to the ground on my back, unable to stop my descent in shock. Akamaru dropped beside me, and began nudging at my face, licking my cheeks dry, but balked when his tongue came in contact with the blood. I struggled to sit up, chest heaving with the effort, eyes squeezing shut with the sudden onslaught of pain. I couldn't make it. I had to, I had to make it back to Konoha, I had to stay alive! For you, Naruto, I had to stay alive. It was a must, and I knew I had to. I staggered to my feet, and started off towards the huge wooden gates, and the village beyond. All I remember is making it, tired and bleeding, to the north entrance, before collapsing to the ground and black consuming my vision completely.

* * *

When I awoke, I was in a stark white room, the walls white-washed and the curtains starched clean. I looked down upon my chest, and saw the wound there wrapped and cleaned. I knew that Akamaru was okay, but I still worried when I didn't see him anywhere near me. I almost considered getting up, but before I could amass the amount of energy necessary to do any such thing, the door opened and Hinata and Shino walked in solemnly. Hinata was looking worriedly at me while Shino was impassible in his customary high-collared jacket and tinted black sunglasses. 

"Kiba!" Hinata exclaimed, running towards me and embracing me tightly. Pain lanced across my wound but I still held her close to me. I was happy she was here, and Shino too, because I had almost forgotten what it was like to have friends. I buried my face into her neck, body shaking with tears of happiness or sadness, I didn't know, but I quickly decided it didn't matter anymore. Hinata pulled back and said softly, "Oh, Kiba! We were so worried about you when you didn't come back. When we didn't see you for several days we thought you had…" She looked like she was about to cry, so I merely hugged her again, smiling at Shino over her shoulder. I was never going to be so reckless again… for your memory, Naruto.

* * *

awwww... kiba! i love kiba. beyond any weird psychopathic tendencies he just might have. and im going to ignore that whole 'akamaru-is-big-enough-for-kiba-to-ride-when-they're-older' because i just dont care. and how he dresses.because i didnt know when i wrote it, so too damn bad. xD because theyre older, dont worry, kiba isnt um... underage drinking... iono? maybe he is. im not really sure how old they are, so its kinda blurry on that. lets just assume it doesnt matter, (because it doesnt) and just read the story. woot!

**Preventer Squall- **um. didnt mean for the whole shinoXhinata. but whatever. xD i love shino! woohoo read it however ya like! (ps. glennon says thank you)

**DJ Rodriguez**-ooh.. (wondering about tsunade.. wow... heheheh)

**Lady Kagome0101- ffgirl-07- Saico- ShinobiFighter101- **thanx!

**madnarutofan**- hehehe youll see!

**Uozumi- **i hope so too. :)

and not to mention everyone else who reviewed before...

oh and im sorry for the gruesome stuff including kiba's coughing and when everyone is burnt. you see i started this fanfic after my dog died a while ago, and then when i was writing on sunday and stuff... i found out my favorite teacher, ever, Ms. Moulton, died. DIED! omfg. i know. and then i got angry and crap so im sorry for that. :) im sorry fer the long wait too... its just the end of the quarter n there are projects due and stuff. oh. srry im going on for ever. hehe ill shut up NOW! shino is up next! What will he see in the mirror, after he finally removes the glasses? who. knows. (cept me but not really) buh-bai+ im sorry for the bad verb tenses. ima so confused. ill fix em later, after i finish this project.


	6. BloodRed Memory

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

+**Blood-red Memory**+

Shino

_And for a moment when you lean closer to me  
__Lips parted a breath hovering on my cheek I see  
__Blood-red eyes in your place and I wonder  
__Silently do your eyes bleed, as mine do? But no  
__They are as clear as the sky brightest azure I smile  
__And you ask why, no, your eyes don't bleed, not... yet._

* * *

Aburame's did not cry. They bled inside, they cried rivers inside, but only behind that frozen, emotionless façade, a mask that was not made of cloth or wood or even of personality, and therefore could not break. Their eyes were always covered by the thin tinted panes, the panes that never lifted, and the sun could never see through. When I was young, I first put on those glasses, the glasses that my father wore, and I finally _became_ an Aburame, truly. 

It was at my mother's death; me, a small, stoic boy of five, trailing behind my father because I could not think of anything else to do, my body not allowing itself to do anything but follow after his footsteps in the dark. If there was any amount of life in his eyes, no one could see it through the black glasses. He ignored me following him, almost as if I didn't exist.

We reached her memorial stone—as there was no gravestone, they had to burn her body so her techniques couldn't be stolen by other ninjas—and knelt before the marble slab. While praying for her eternal peace and for her to blessed, I looked at my father. He appeared older somehow, more hunched and inverted. Lines were evident on his face, and while his glasses shielded his eyes from view, I could tell from his body language that he hurt inside, and he wished he could cry.

Even though I was only five at the time, I was freakishly adept at reading body language, almost as well as the Hyuuga's with the Byakugan. It was because I always silent and observing, and since no one knew what I was thinking, I had to learn what they were thinking. I stared at my father as he prayed, his hands clasped together so tightly the knuckles were white. Why was he praying so hard for something that wouldn't return? For even I, a small boy of five, knew that my mother had died and was never coming back.

I remembered how I found her, blood-soaked and lying prone on the ground. Her eyes were empty and emotionless as her life was slipping away with the liquid that poured from the fatal wound across her chest. I rushed over to her and threw myself across her torso, feeling the warm liquid seeping into my clothes, through my pale, fragmented skin, into my heart, my soul, my blood. Until I _was _her; all I could ever be, and that's what my father remembered me for. That's why he despised me.

I was her remembrance, her never-ending memory, her ever-appearing ghost that wasn't her and was me and was her and me all in the same instant. Something that encompassed the fear and childish tears that ran down my face that my father couldn't cry and couldn't feel; the words that came from my lips that were his and mine and hers and a thousand dying, broken souls that were crying for the same thing. I was everything; eternity, intangible, untouchable in my downward spiral that started so far apart; it was a wonder the slowly rolling circle could ever be called a spiral. I was everything and nothing at the same time, because as long as I was him I couldn't be me and as long as I was her I couldn't be him and as long as I was myself I couldn't be anything else so all the time I was empty.

I always am.

I remember looking into her eyes and how her lips formed words that couldn't be spoken anymore because her lips were cracked and bloody. She was falling apart like a rag doll whose seams haven't been sewn properly, and the stuffing is hanging out of. Except rag dolls don't have blood, do they? They don't cry and bleed and smile at me even though they're dying; already their bodies are dead and hers wasn't, it was alive, alive, alive. And slowly, as she was alive, I was dying for her. Maybe, just maybe, if I died she could live and she'd smile and the world would be bright again. But maybes aren't yes' and they aren't no's, they're maybe's, they're in-between and everywhere all at once. They were me, a maybe in life and a maybe in death, nothing and everything all at once. They were empty and lifeless in promises; they promised nothing and gave nothing in return.

I was not so versatile after that. I was drained as I pulled away from her body, forced away, maybe, but who knew? All I remember was her eyes, her blood-swirling, empty eyes that promised the world and never delivered. And the blood that swam around her, almost like a pool that I could swim in, with the fish and the beavers and life could be alright again, right? But no Aburame was so stupid; especially not me. Not even at five, shorter than your average pinprick, and younger than every other Aburame that had ever worn _the glasses_.

But I wore them, took them from my father's hands, because when I looked into the mirror I remembered. I didn't remember the blood that pooled around her body, I didn't remember the maybes, the silent thoughts; the bittersweet goodbye and no, it's not goodbye, its goodnight, because I'll see you there in your dreams. Because I'm not really gone and you're not really imagining me, it's just a smile like the stars and a touch like the moonlight. No, I didn't remember that. I remembered her eyes, and when I looked into the mirror and saw my eyes, red and black and swirling the vortex of my heart that was almost non-existent.; they reminded me of her. Grabbed me by the wrist and forced me to remember. My face grew and twisted in the mirror's surface until I couldn't recognize it, and then it twisted some more until I recognized it and wished I hadn't.

All the mirrors in the Aburame compound were broken after that; and I put the glasses onto my eyes, to live forever in the darkness that inhabited my mind as well as my vision. And when my father disappeared for weeks, months, even occasionally, years at a time on missions, with only hours to rest between, I didn't question him. He never talked to me after that time at the shrine, so many years ago. And I didn't talk to him, but to acknowledge him. As long as I knew he still hated me, I could accept the fact and move on.

But I never truly did, never truly forgot my mother's eyes and blood-soaked jacket. She followed me into the darkness of my dreams, where lies were truths and life was death and she was my mother, my lover, my greatest enemy, and my weakest link. She haunted me, in my eyes in the light, and during the night, where my defenses were useless. Where the darkness that I craved in the daytime was nonexistent in my dreams; where my glasses didn't exist and neither did I. I was her torment and her pleasure. Pleasure-pain.

It was no different, years later, when I went with Kiba into the woods, searching for someone, something. My bugs were everywhere, a constant stream of their information flowing through my mind as I directed us forward. Akamaru was smelling for whoever we might be looking for in the distance while I watched out for hidden terrors lurking deep within the forest-green foliage that hid so well.

I could feel my bugs all around me, could feel them moving about within me, feeding on my chakra while, during this rhythm that I knew so well, I was hearing things that they heard, seeing things they saw, feeling things they felt. I could feel the wet dew drops as I landed, crouching and looking almost quizzically at the giant globes of water in front of me while one stuck to my leg. It was cold and unexpected, but not unpleasant.

Farther ahead I could see the diagonal slash marks in several of the trees, and when I landed upon one it sizzled with a faint yet powerful chakra that wasn't my own. That used to confuse me, when I was a bug and myself at the same time, I was thinking of myself as a different person, from a different perspective, while still trying to keep in mind that I was a person just synonymous with a bug looking at me with a million pairs of eyes. And with these millions of pairs of eyes I saw the scene long before Kiba did, before Akamaru even smelled the faint chakra that I had felt under my skin as one of my bugs felt it too.

I saw the blood and I saw the fight taking place almost as if there was a battle now but there wasn't; I saw the ground rumble and rise up in front of me although I had not slipped. It was just my bug, flying towards the battle epicenter, where it had all begun. Then I swooped upwards and landed on something's foot that was still alive, still had a little slip of chakra left. Not enough to fight and not enough to speak, but enough to stay awake and alive for maybe—maybe, here we go again—another minute or so. Kiba and I wouldn't make it in time. So I watched as the bug's perspective moved upwards, and with its billion lenses, which in my mind, I was able to perceive what it would look like to everyone else.

And immediately wished I hadn't. I wished I was the bug for that moment, and I infused so much chakra into the bug that its heart beat faster, faster, and then it died. The image immediately faded in my eyes, but not in my mind. Akamaru barked and I was brought back to reality. Obviously we made it faster than I had anticipated. You were still alive when we got there.

I knew it was you, but didn't say anything as Kiba tensed, pulling out a kunai while Akamaru barked in warning. You were standing, the dregs of your power slowly fading, but enflamed enough to grab attention.

"Who's there?" Kiba yelled at you, not like you would answer.

Naruto, I could have answered. It's Naruto here, and I'm about to die. I could be you, like I was my mother, like I was my father, like I was everyone else but me.

Hey Kiba, I'm not about to die. Please tell everyone that I'll miss them in the afterlife, though. Tell Hinata that I adored her, but she should move on. Don't tell her anything, actually. Well, tell her that I died defending everyone, the village, the country, the world. Tell the village that and maybe they'll love me, maybe they'll make me the hero that I never was to them, since I could only be a monster. Tell them that even though they hated me, they made me stronger. They made it so that I could live through any hardship, survive anything they threw at me. Tell them that even though I died, I died defending the people that I loved to hate, and they hated me back.

But I didn't say anything, just stood there and stared as Kiba started crying. You collapsed into his arms and said something, but it was clearly left unfinished. I just stood there, being cold, calculating and empty like I was, but being slowly torn apart like the wings of an airplane that lost control.

Because I did lose control, I lost everything. Then I regained it, forcing my limbs to move to clasp Kiba on the shoulder. If he hugged your body anymore he would have crushed it beyond recognition. You needed it to be recognized, you wanted everyone to realize their mistake of hating you, even if it was too late. Even if it was in death.

"Kiba. It's time to go." He seemed reluctant, so I tried again; even though every word I said hurt like poison and burned my throat. "There's no one else here. We'll bring him with us. If we leave now we can get there before nightfall." How could I be so nonchalant? But how could I not be?

For if I allowed even a moment of uncontrolled desire, it would escape and my façade would be wrecked. Every moment of every day I had to be calculating, cold, stoic, and empty. We reached home, Kiba carrying the body in silent reverence through the streets of Konoha. Everyone stopped to stare at him and me, walking silently through the bustling lanes that had frozen at the familiar person in his arms.

_Why are you staring? Why are you crying? _I raged silently at the villagers as we passed towards the city center. _You hated him, you despised him! You made him this way, made him suicidal, made him empty and cold and alone. You are to blame, not the one who threw the kunai, not the one who he was trying to save, but you! _

The central bazaar fell silent as everyone stared in silent wonder at the dead boy who could be nothing but alive to them, because he was always so alive, and if he was dead, who was left to hate? _Go away. Go, go away. You killed him, from the beginning. Even if he didn't recognize it himself that you were killing him. He wanted to be seen by you. He wanted you to love him, to need him, to care for him in ways no one ever did. You destroyed him, you stupid bastards!_

I said nothing as Kiba handed the body to the Godaime, said nothing as I passed through the quiet corridors that held nothing but fake feelings, even if everyone convinced themselves that what they were feeling was right, they did love him in the end. No, they only loved him in death, when they couldn't hate him anymore. Because hating someone in death looked bad, only loving someone in death looked good. That's what everyone cared about, looking good and feeling good. Because hating made you feel bad in the end, and loving someone made you feel good, even if you really hated them. Because then you could whisper to your friends, 'Oh the Kyuubi boy died yesterday, such a tragedy. I was crying the moment I heard the news. Always knew he was such a good boy, set up to be Rokudaime. Knew he was going to be great one day, such a tragedy.'

Such a fucking tragedy. Shut up. I traveled home, ignoring the looks and stares that everyone gave me; what did it matter anyways? They cared what they looked like and what they felt like; I could care less what I looked like and what did I feel? Nothing but contempt for those who hated you, Naruto; I felt nothing. And then, almost immediately after admitting that to myself, I felt guilty. I'm doing the same thing as they are. I barely knew you and yet here I am, defending you against their love, when that's all you ever wanted.

Well, fine, Naruto. If you want fake love, fine. If you want praise and tears and sadness, go ahead, take it. There's plenty of it to go around. Don't ever look to me, because no one ever does. Wait, what the heck? When did this turn into a pity party? I stormed off into the woods, unnerved by my sudden feeling of something, anything. I sat in a tree and looked down into a pool of water so seemingly thick, I couldn't see myself and that was just fine.

If I slept that night, I don't remember. I never remember sleep anymore, there's no difference between sleeping and waking for me. It's all just continuous, never ending. No break in the pattern, no break in the seamless bag I had contained myself in. I had trapped the devil, tricked the devil into a paper bag, but in exchange, I locked myself in as well. There were, on occasion, memories of you, Naruto. But they fade away just as fast as they come.

Then I started to see you, wandering the paths of the wood. It was only a few days after your death, and you were fresh. You saw me, waved, and beckoned for me to follow you into the forest. At first I was confused, but then you came out again and motioned again. I followed you for a while, then you disappeared around a corner, and I didn't see you again. I saw you again later, and you lead me again on a fruitless goose-chase. Whatever you were looking for wasn't there, and it frustrated you. You disappeared, and I lay down to sleep.

I saw the darkness at first and was afraid; then I heard voices, and realized I was just in the woods. Was I awake? But then I saw my mother, fighting so many enemy ninja's she was almost unrecognizable as she dodged between the figures cloaked in black, crying out in a animalistic roar that I hated to hear. And I saw myself, deflecting her attacks with ease, almost as if she had not hit me, and she was no trouble at all. As though I didn't see the fear she had transformed into anger to fight me, and I was not her son. For I was not her son as I ducked while she swiped above me, I was a stranger and she was my enemy. I saw myself through someone else's eyes, and I almost cried out in pain since she didn't recognize me.

She was, she was the enemy as I pulled a kunai effortlessly out of my back pouch and stabbed it into her rib, the opening in her attack. But then she crumpled to the floor as I pulled the knife out of her body, and then she was just my mother.

The other ninjas faded away and I walked up to her, knelt before her. But she was dead, her eyes closed, and her soul gone. No weeping, no smiling, no half-alive, half-dead, everything anymore. A cry in the distance, a baby's cry for its mother that was no longer alive. I killed her, she's dead. And there am I. Will I kill myself in the past too? I stood up and walked over to myself, which was almost as confusing as when my bug thought of me in the third-tense. I bent over and picked the baby up, the baby that had never seen any of this.

I could show it his dead mother, but it wouldn't understand. I was just old enough to understand death, and then it was forced upon me. I wasn't ready to know, I wasn't ready to deal with it. But then why had they chosen me to see it? Why with me, eyes just like those pools of blood, eyes just like his mothers. I touched the baby's brow, traced its fine hairs that were beginning to form eyebrows above endless, pitiless red-black orbs. Eyes that were my own, and face that would soon resemble the one I now had. But the eyes were unshielded and unfettered by the darkness. I wondered if I could save it from the horrors that I was made to see. I could protect it, I could be more than a killer; a heartless killer that murdered his own mother and was despised by his father. I could be more, a protector, an angel in a human's body.

And I could kill the baby now, save it from ever seeing anything like that in the future. I could save it from becoming the psycho that was slowly becoming _me_, or maybe I was already the psycho and was just becoming aware of it. I could kill the baby and save myself, or I could protect it and it would eventually see the horrors of this life, and never be whole again.

_Forever you will live in darkness, but it will be a happy darkness, wont it, Shino-kun? The darkness that I live in, home to me and you now, it will be a warm darkness._ My mother's voice and my mother's child.

_You will be safe_, I softly said to the child, though it could not understand me and never would. _You will be safe because I will be there and you will survive because that's what humans have evolved to do. Survive and live and accept, reject, live, and die as you will. Just survive and I will be there in the end, because I _am_ you, little one. I am not my mother and I am not my father, and I am not anyone else, because I am you. And you are me. We are one._

I pressed my lips to its brow, my lips pressing a thousand hopes and a thousand blessings into one untouchable kiss. _You will live and I will find you one day, I promise. And this is no maybe promise, this is an eternal promise_.

Its skin felt impossibly warm and impossibly all too real for a dream that was just a dream in the end, and then it was gone, like a dream. Its eyes opened and they were a bright, deep blue, like the oceans and like the skies. Not scarred, and not empty. The hair was like the sun and I smiled against its light. No more darkness. Mother, you brought me here, and Naruto, you took me away.

Then I opened my eyes, and was met once again with blue eyes. Except now I was waking, and could feel it. Could feel everything, the hardness of the dirt beneath my back, and the soft breeze that kissed my cheek I could feel.

"You are ready, and you are healed. Come with me, Shino, and we will see your future."

You stood up and offered me a hand. At first I didn't want to take it; they put people away who saw dead people and talked to them, even if they didn't want to. They pumped them full of drugs, the people who whispered in their sleep to rid themselves of the poison that was always there. Because drugs couldn't stop the images from coming, they just killed the person enough to make them vulnerable, until the person finally lost themselves among the thousands of identities they heard, for they were all the people they saw.

I didn't want to lose the raw, soft part of myself that I had just recovered, not yet. But then I believed, because I had to, because everyone had something to be crazy about. Everyone had their own personal pleasures. Like Kiba's drinking, and my contemplation and hate. My rediscovering of myself. My thousand different perspectives that always interchanged, always were interconnected in ways no one knew, not even me. I grabbed your hand and you took me into the forest. It was night, the stars were heavy, but the sky was heavier. The oppressing feeling grew as I followed you deeper and deeper into the waxen foliage, and I tried to ignore it.

Then I saw her lying on the ground, back to me and you. She looked broken and defeated, something that she shouldn't.

You motioned to her and whispered, "Go to her Shino, and show her the way. I tried, but I cannot. She sees all but me, for she doesn't want to see me anymore. She just wants to see the truth, but the truth is me, and she refuses herself the liberation she needs. Bring it to her. And remember, the one who took you away was not me, but yourself. You accepted yourself. Let her accept herself, and she will accept me." I stared at you for the longest time, and then realized what had happened. "Thank you Shino." Your hand brushed my face, but then faded away.

Then I wondered, will you listen to me, Hinata? Do you care what I think, what I believe? Will you allow yourself to be liberated? I walked closer to her, and said her name in a whisper I didn't think she could hear. But she always heard. Always.

"Hinata." I walked closer, let my fingers brush along the sides of the customary white jacket for females of the Hyuuga clan, let my fingers do a feather-light dance across her shoulder before I took it in my hand and shook her lightly. I saw how she rolled away from me; saw her tears reflected into a million different directions in the moonlight. The moonlight that I feared, but not anymore.

"Hinata. Hinata! I know you aren't asleep." I hated this, why was I so mean? She was still hurt, raw and broken inside, and I'm just as callous and stoic as ever. She rolled farther, if even possible, away from me, until her face was pressed into the dirt, and I wondered if she was able to breathe.

"Hin—" I started, almost exasperated, but not quite. She turned suddenly towards me, chakra-infused palm directed towards my stomach, but I caught her wrist quite easily. _As easily as you caught your mother's punches as she advanced upon you—_I frowned, not anymore. Not again. The images faded and dissolved. "Hinata. Stop." Stop evoking these memories, stop making me feel this again. I thought it went away forever. Please, just make it stop.

But she did not. Her feet went under mine, or attempted to, but I used the moment she was off-balance to pull her up against me. Easy, or, well, almost. I wrapped my arms around her so she could do minimal damage, and she tried to hit me. Her fists were useless and she was too emotional to use her chakra well.

"Let me GO!" she cried as she beat her fists against my chest, but I ignored her, only pulling her tighter to me.

I can't let her go, because then she'll be like my mother. She'll be broken and haunting like mother never was because she's new and raw and everything powerful that you, mother, were not, and I can't let her do that. I can't let her break like you did.

"It's okay Hinata… get it all out… its okay…" When she was close to becoming a haunting ghost on one side, and living to become stronger on the other, I could not be this calm, could I? When I was the catalyst, the person who would push her off of one edge, because she couldn't stand there forever, tottering between decisions that she couldn't make.

I looked over her shoulder and saw you waving at me, Naruto. I smiled against my collar; you were providing me with strength and calm enough to survive like I'm providing for her. Thank you, Naruto. For everything, for life, for calm, for making me realize everything. For helping me against a monster I couldn't beat myself, thank you. And even if you're gone, I'll be here. I won't be you, but I'll try to help people in the quiet way I do.

I'll push her the right way, like I pushed myself. And I'll be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom. I won't be you, Naruto, but I'll try my best. I waved to you, not one more goodnight but this is not goodbye, a real goodbye wave and smile. A smile I hadn't smiled since I was five, and unbroken. Because now I was healing. And you disappeared in a column of light so bright it hurt my eyes, even behind the lenses that didn't seem so dark to me anymore, and you were gone.

But I was so sure you weren't gone, because when we, me and Hinata, went visit Kiba in the hospital, he was okay. I was sure you had worked this magic, this strange turn-around that could be nothing else. And as Hinata and I left that day, the sky bright blue like your eyes that would never fade like memories, I smiled. My first true smile in so many years. Thank you Naruto, for showing me the way. Thank you, for helping me find the strength inside. Thank you, for everything and nothing, for eternity and for emptiness, thank you for anything. Because there were no more maybes, no more broken eyes, there was you and I, and acceptance.

You looked at me in my dreams and smiled, a smile that said, _No, I didn't do anything, but thank you for the compliment. I'll see you when you finally succumb to the darkness again, I'll be there, and so will you. And we'll travel into the darkness together._

_Alright then,_ I replied, _until then, goodnight, but not goodbye._

_No, this time it is goodbye, it's time to say goodbye finally._

_Goodbye. _And this time I meant it.

* * *

nyaahh tell me if it sucks. please. i will be happy to hear it. because i wrote it at what... two am? yay two am rocks! no wait damn im hungry. tell me if there are places that my grammar is screwed up or theres other words where better words should go. or bad spelling or wrong tense, or something, okay? i want to know my mistakes. and if theres anything good, go ahead and tell me too. cuz thats cool, and you know it. 

Lee- People take things too seriously, and what if Lee loses all of his faith in friendship?

and ah about the poem. didnt write it for this passage, no, i wrote it for. im not entirely sure. i'm sorry if it sucks (the entire thing) i was reading enders game again and was inspired (as would you be on a four or five hour car-trip back home listening to music for hours on end and unimpressed by the lanscape. given that its flat and all the same. (im sorry people who live there, whever you think that might be)) okay gonna shut up now. thank you reviewers! (is it true i cant name them in here anymore? T.T that sucks)


	7. The White Window

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

_Where your reflection should be, where you stare out the window,  
You're searching, but what for no one knows, no one can figure it out.  
You don't even know as you look out that godforsaken window one more time.  
Look at me, I call, but you don't turn, for the rain that sings  
Against the panes, enraptures you. For where your reflection should be lies only a shadow._

* * *

**+Lee+**

The White Window

Everything went wrong that day. From the moment I woke up, and put on my green spandex suit backwards, went racing into a wall before getting to the bathroom, and tripped over my feet when I tried to get into the shower; until _the_ moment. The moment I heard.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I was frozen, point-blank, where I stood.

My eyes hurt so badly and my normal happy-go-lucky attitude had dissipated so quickly it was a wonder I was still standing. All the strength in my muscles was stripped away and I wobbled dangerously, rocking back and forth from the balls of my feet to my heels and back again. The rhythm was somehow calming and I forced myself to breathe as I rolled my feet forward, my muscles barely following in a gelatin-like fashion.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, or what I heard, as several minutes had passed since the fateful words had tumbled out of the chuunin's mouth, coming in a soft and broken voice as he took off his hitai-ate. It was so strange hearing your name and died in the same sentence, it just wasn't possible! I believe that everything is possible, that everything can be achieved with hard work and dedication; I believe in everything but this.

I don't believe in death, Naruto, especially for you. You can't be dead! I lunged at the chuunin, grabbing the lapels of his flak jacket and we tumbled to the floor as I landed punch after punch in his unlucky face. You can't be, you can't be, you can't be dead! He _has _to be lying; there is _no way_ that you're dead.

"Where is he?" I bellowed at the chuunin beneath me. "Who took him? WHERE DID HE GO?" I shook his shoulders again and again as blood trickled from his nose and mouth, shook him until there was no more feeling left in my arms and he was heavy in my hands. _Where, where did you go, Naruto? Where did you disappear to?_

I was numb as Tenten pulled me off of him; I felt like I was drowning even though I wasn't underwater as she pulled me farther and farther away. My eyes were empty and my body was useless, and I couldn't move. Where was my breath? It was nowhere and so was I. I struggled against Tenten's arms; I could feel the tendons and the muscles straining to keep me interlocked in her grasp. But she couldn't hold me for very long. I thrashed wildly, and finally my leg wrapped around hers, my foot pulling at the back of her knee, and her leg bent, allowing me to escape.

And I ran. From the village, the cold, sleek metal buildings full of ashes and white blood. Thick and heavy rain fell on me. There were blurs of color, screams of people passing, but I could not hear them, could not see. My muscles which had been paralyzed were free. They exploded into movement, and I disappeared into the horizon, into the trees. I ran to forget, I ran to be free from everything. There was nothing between me and the sky, between me and the air that was forced down my throat and into my eyes, blinding me. Blind me so I don't see this. Hide me from this pain that I can't handle.

Drown me.

Kiss me, kill me. Honey and razor blades ramming into the back of my throat. Sweet, thick blood tingeing my lips, a kiss of foreign taste.

Something is suffocating me, and I know it's you, Naruto. Come out, come out wherever you are. I'm searching for you. Looking, searching, and fearing what I might find. My body burned from the exertion but I did not stop. The sky was red-tinged and looked like it was bleeding; the clouds were crying blood tears that I soaked myself in as I slipped between the trees. Foliage slapped me in quick succession, my clothes were torn and bloody, but I ran on. The ground faded away beneath me until a consuming white strained over everything, and I was left in a land of white. Snow. Little flashes of color were all I saw in this endless white. Red, blue, green, red, orange, green. And I ran on. I forgot everything, who I was, who I was meant to be, my life, my past, my future. I forgot my friends, I forgot my seizing muscles, I forgot my address and the number of fingers I had. I forgot. Everything but you. Still, I ran on.

I stopped when my body collapsed, felt my muscles cave in on themselves, felt the sickening crunch of bone against bone, tendons stretching too far and snapping under my skin. The pain that whorled up my numb legs, and I couldn't feel again.

Make me feel whole again. I fell. Again and again, in my mind. The world spun and I lay there in the center of the vortex, watching the rain patter down on my hot cold numb skin. I felt detached, breaking, shattering; falling until there was nowhere left to fall. There I broke again into a thousand pieces; something slammed the sledgehammer down, down, down. Upon my throbbing chest.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Crack. There in the sky, is that a slit in the amber clouds? No, that's my reflection.

Ba-boom. The sledgehammer of my heart. A heart? Ba-boom. Yes, but it hurts, it burns.

You weren't in the shadows where you slipped into easily; you weren't in the sky where your eyes lay, resting upon me; you weren't on the lake, discovering snow for the first time; you weren't under the trees where you trained; you weren't where I could find you.

But it's a lie. You're here, I know you are.

Come out, come out wherever you are. I know you're hiding, but this childish game is getting old.

Naruto. Naruto. I call your name, loud with my scalded throat, voice rough and unintelligible for anyone but you and me to understand. You and me. Me and you. Us, together. One, one, one. One, two, three, four… But I've found nothing. I'm counting to a hundred but I've forgotten where I am. Fifty-one, seventy-three? I don't know anymore.

Come back. You promised me, Naruto. You promised to be here, always. Always and forever, day after day, until nothing claimed you and you sunk into oblivion, erethreality. You promised you would become the Hokage. You _promised me_, Naruto. Where are you now? Now when I need you the most. _Eighty-six._

When you're gone.

Come out. Come out. You promised everyone, you forced everyone to see you how you were, forced everyone to know what you knew, see what you saw. Promises weren't made to be broken. My voice is almost desperate, almost frantic. Almost, almost. Maybe you'll come back. I stagger to my feet when I hear your voice. It sounds like an echo, a fragment, a piece of who you were. Are, I mean.

I roll on my side; see the lake stretched out in front of me, the mist from the river that pools into the lake, the flat, glassy surface that reflects what is beautiful, and what is not. The mist rising to meet the amber-grey sky. The aquamarine waters, the cobalt lake, the frosty-blue-silver surface that I want to touch. So like your eyes. Pale blue, dazzling sapphire, erethreal azure, lapis lazuli, powder blue, intangible aqua, cornflower blue, untouchable cerulean. All your eyes, reflected back at me. From the sky that was grey yet blue, as though touched by the lake, it merged into the air and sky with the mist. From the river of oceans and tears, the river of rain and life, flooding and death; to the lake, the pool that was untouched in the early morning mist, or the late night twilight. Periwinkle.

Come, come to me, I call to the river and the lake. I throw a white flower into its depths, and even from my side I can see it sinking beneath the surface, its pale petals soaked, trembling with beads of water as the strength of the river pulls it under. Gone again. Ripples spread and blend with the hard-silver surface. They break the sky's reflection and my own, until they're only shadows of colors and there is nothing left. My hope a wavering white flower, a fluttering handkerchief, a pure love-drenched dove, a feathered butterfly. So fragile, so untouchable and unreal. Surrealistic.

A patter of footfalls, a collage of white-blue-silver-amber clouds and a blur of colors. The colors are so loud and bright, they hurt my dull eyes. I rise to meet the onslaught of feelings and dyes, passion and feeling.

_Naruto!_ I see your hair, your beautiful blue eyes, your bright orange jumpsuit before you jump towards me. A smile so large it rivals the sun is on your face, and you collide with my arms outstretched, before we go tumbling to the ground. You and me. Me and you. _Ba-boom._

I can hear your heartbeat. Against mine, it makes a rhythm. Your breath mingles with mine and I can feel the warmth of your skin. Your smile bright as mine.

You're back! Found you! I cry, and you just grin, getting up from the ground. You offer me a hand, and I take it, standing up. Tidal waves of emotion ran through me as my hand touched yours, and my body detached from my mind as I floated away. Rippling with the tide, draw in, push out. Pull away.

You're alive.

But you're blurred at the edges, almost as if you might fade away from me at any second. It's like you're made of fragile glass that if you touch its clear surface, it breaks. I suppose you're there. Suppose, suppose, but don't know.

You motioned to me, through the early morning river-mist that curled around your ankles and snaked up your calves. Your hands were cold, and I remembered. Naruto is dead.

But I saw you, felt you, wanted you to be there, and so you were there. Oh how nice of you, I wish, and you come. I call, I cry, I fall, and you come to rescue me, pull me up. You motioned again, and I followed you obediently, my movements jerky and slow. I tried to keep up with you, but you kept going faster, faster. Your blonde hair disappeared into the indigo-painted shadows, the trees looming over me and consuming you until I could no longer see you in the darkness. Please, stop. But you don't come back.

I'm left all alone again, but my movements continue. I'm so far gone from my muscles, so disconnected from my body, it's like I don't even exist. I'm drifting through snow covered mountains, the blue shadows of the snow coloring my skin, sinking deep inside me, making me cold. Oh, Naruto, I'm so cold. There, on the twilit horizon, is a different color. A warmth in all of these blues and purples, violets and forget-me-not ceruleans, when I wanted to forget and never wanted to remember. The red-orange explodes into millions of stars that spread across the darkened skies. Their silver-white dots are cold and hard against the deep navy of the sky. I want to touch them, but I can't move. My body is frozen, paralyzed in the soft snow that bites at my skin. It hurts, Naruto, this place burns. The snow that is cold burns at my skin, the fire in the ice. Oil in water, propane lit, oil fires in drums, smoke rising steadily to the sky.

Rescue me.

Everything burns at my skin, fire under my eyelids, heat rising from the west. From the sun comes warmth and light, but pain. What's real in this world? Love never lasts, people never last, friends never last, villages and dynasties and empires never last. They crumble and they fall. Mistakes are eternal, repeating. Pain is omnipresent, and the sun will eventually burn up, curl up into a little lifeless ball of nothingness, implode on itself, and we'll perish without its light. We'll be plunged into the darkness for a moment, before the world is consumed in so many colors, a supernova of rainbows, a sphere of white nothingness that is every color that passes by our planet and eats it up. We're lost.

Then I see where I am, where the gleam comes from. Instead of from stars, it comes from the ground, from a sprawling city, a hidden village. Rising from the frozen soil, hard beneath my feet, the village looks almost magical in the mist. The fog that covers the ground like a prayer, swirls around my feet, the mist that leads and consumes, covers and discovers. This place, I don't know what it is, or where I am, but I know I'm somewhere.

There you are, Naruto, at the gate. Waiting for me as if you'd never led me there. You're leaning against the wooden doors, arms crossed, breath pooling into the air like a thousand white crystals. Naruto! I rush to you, but you turn away before I get close enough. You aren't blurry in the heavy stillness of morning, framed by blue-white mist as we amble down the street. I talk to you, talk away the uneasiness, talk to relieve my mind, talk to make sure you're there.

Someone sees me, on the street, talking to you. They stare at me funnily, and walk away. I pause for a moment, but keep talking. These streets seem familiar, these turns seem familiar, but they're so distant, the memories are so unreachable, I'm unable to remember. Naruto, I ask, where are we?

You're home, you answer. I'm home? This place of coldness and emptiness is my home? These bright colors, draped in thick fog that dampens and depresses everything; this is my home? Something knocks at the thick wooden door barring my memories, but the lock does not click, the latch does not slide across. The window panes are blinded, thick slats shield the inside from view, from a peek. Life is an empty room, with my memories stripped away. I feel naked, vulnerable.

You lead me to a strange, tall tower, with straight-backed guards and beige hallways that never seem to end. I don't know where we're going, but I'm just happy to be with you. The guards look at me strangely, but they notice something belted around my waist, and let us through. They don't seem to see you, Naruto. I look at my waist; see the strip of metal with a strange, curling impression, with a tiny triangle sprouting from one side. It doesn't look like anything, but there's another knock on my memories. Nothing happens, and you knock again on the thick wooden door, until I realize its me who's knocking, and for a moment I'm sensing three different things at once. The knocking on the door of memories, you slamming your fist on the soft wood, and me, doing the same, not even knowing why.

Someone finally opens the door, and it's a woman with high cheekbones, a wide, flat forehead with a sparkling purple jewel in the center, and hard-candy brown eyes. Chocolate. I blink, wondering what I'm doing here, wondering where you went. Naruto, I want to cry out, but I look at the woman again.

"Lee-san? What are you doing here this time in the morning?"

She looks angry at me, and I wonder why. My name is Lee? Lee. One syllable. A sharp, resounding note; high tenor. Uplifting, short, fast and then its over. Lee. Rings a bell somewhere in my mind, but is quickly stifled by the snow that seeps into every corner. No corner of snow, only endlessness. Lee. See, Lee. Be, Lee. Need Lee. But then it's gone. Its magical sound is over as quickly as it came. What am I to say to this lady-jewel, this epitome of youthfulness, this fire-blossom? That comes from nowhere, and leaves again. Why am I always left behind? I say the only thing I can think of.

"Who are you?"

* * *

They locked me up, Naruto. Took me away in their crisp white suits to a blank white room, wrapped me up in thick white blankets, injected me with clear-white liquid. I never knew there was so much white, all so different. Outside is the same, it looks like snow has fallen, whenever I can see it. White, white, white. I'm sick of it all. There are white pills, in a white bottle, in an endless white corridor. It stretches before me like the snow did, like the grey-amber clouds. There's no life in their eyes here.

Where are you, Naruto? I need you now, more than ever. More than I could ever before. That lady betrayed me, she was soothing, calming. She betrayed me with her honey words and bloody lips, her chocolate eyes. Said she was a friend of mine. I didn't believe her. Is this what friends do to each other? I don't remember.

Naruto? Naruto? Are you there?

But there's no answer.

* * *

They put me in this place today. The walls were soft and so was the floor. If I could jump and touch the ceiling, I think it would be too. I don't know what's happening; they locked me up in here as soon as I woke up. I swear I didn't do anything wrong, Naruto. They just took me, Naruto. They took me away.

I fell asleep with your names on my lips. Again and again, save me.

* * *

Naruto, Naruto. I repeat your name. It's like a sickness, an obsession. A mantra that keeps me sane in these white rooms. Where everyone stares at me the same way, hollow. Empty. The rooms are empty for me, but your eyes stay with me. They breathe into my lungs when I cannot. You keep me alive.

Naruto, Naruto. It's like a disease I cannot rid myself of. A lost breath, and you're there, making me breathe. The people are staring at me again. I'm talking to you again. Through the haze of the medications they force-feed me, through the early morning mist that I still see you in, through the sleek metal bars of the windows that make me sad, I still see you. You talk to me, and I answer.

Naruto, Naruto. My mantra, my life, my succession and repression. Keep me alive, and when you choose, I die. Kill me then. But it's no longer my choice. My god, Nartuo, kill me.

* * *

I looked out the window today. There were people trailing after one another, feet slamming into the unfettered, untouched white snow. They were all dressed in black, and it confused me. I asked you what they were doing, and you softly said that you did not know.

I liked watching them messing up the perfect white flakes of snow. At first I was mad, they were destroying the winter wonderland that had been created. Then I loved it, the change, the patterns people made in the snow with their boots. It was so pretty, the clumps of snow, the straight lines of people's shoes, the indents and the peaks of whiteness, so different from the sheets I was sitting on. It made me want the outside, to escape into the icy cold.

* * *

People visited me today. Three people, all dressed in black like the people outside were before. One looked like an older version of me, whenever I looked into the water of my cup and saw my face on the rippling surface. They didn't allow mirrors here, too dangerous. I wondered what people did with the mirrors, the fragments, the shattered bits of their reflections. What they did to their skin. He looked old, tired.

The other one had long, black hair, tied back with a black ribbon, and the strange piece of metal and cloth, that had been around my waist when I had been first taken away, around his forehead, before they had dressed me up in these white cotton clothes that were itchy and fit strangely. His eyes were white and seemed impenetrable. His black robes hung loosely around his frame, but I saw white bandages around one of his hands.

The third was a woman, her black hair pulled back into two buns on either side of her head, tied back with black ribbons. Around her forehead was the strange piece of cloth with the whorl and diamond that I now recognized as a leaf. City of the leaf. Hidden ninjas of the leaf. Village of the leaf. Hidden Village of the Leaf. Konohagakure. Konoha. The words felt foreign yet familiar on my tongue.

"Hello. What are your names?"

The woman started to cry, clutching the white-eyed boy's sleeve as though he were her lifeline, her buoy holding her afloat, her anchor keeping her in place. He didn't resist, and a tear began to fall from his crystalline eyes, a droplet of his iris falling down his porcelain-white skin. The older clone of me turned away, unable to look at me.

I wondered what I had done wrong when they left a few moments later, no words exchanged.

* * *

I was walking down the corridor this morning, with every other blank-eyed prisoner of this whiteness, when I saw it. A flash of pink, a drop of rosette against the grey pallor cast around every drab room. I recognized it, a flash of sun golden-yellow-red memory racing through me, hitting my adrenaline and forcing me forward. My mouth formed words I didn't even know I knew.

"Sakura-chan!"

The girl turned back to face me, her jade eyes hollow and blank, and her white-painted rose hair lank about her once-round face. She seemed so listless, so empty. And then I didn't recognize her anymore. She was gone, wasn't she, Naruto?

Did you know her? Because I think I did, Naruto.

Who is she? Who am I?

* * *

Someone sent me a bouquet. Red-pink cherry blossoms wrapped around twice with a soft, black ribbon. A small bow around the green, dying stems. They're out of season, sakura blossoms don't appear until spring. Where did these come from?

Sakura. Familiarity, then met with a blank wall.

The blossoms seemed to die, bleed into my hands as I touched their sable surfaces. So soft, so warm, even though they were dying. Dead. A strange word. A strange sensation.

I put the cherry blossoms in a vase, with water, but still, they seemed to die against the grey walls. It was so different from the snow outside that seeped through the windows at night, froze me in my bed.

* * *

I lined up to take my white pills in a white cup, with cold, fiery water, stopping at the quartz-paned window. I recognize no one. They're lost in the snow, in the desolate static, the ghost of life. You left me to this listless dawn, this empty cup, this white porcelain figurines in the window, framed with bars. You left me here, in this place I don't know where I am, without memories or friends.

Please come back to me, Naruto. Please come back.

But you don't. I ride the phosphorescence, the light without feeling, the white emptiness that has no shadows, has no corners, has no color. White that _is_ all, but has nothing. I ride through these empty streets, wondering, lost, forgotten.

You forgot me. And I cant forget you.

Fade to white.

* * *

T.T that made me sad... poor, poor Lee, going insane. well at least now hes with his sakura-chan! not like he remembers her but whaatever.. ooh right.. whos Ayame? o.O? never heard of her... maybe someone can tell me? hmhmhm... yeah i was going to have it so Lee didnt believe in friendships anymore, so he was running away from Tenten and Neji n Gai.. but i think not knowing who they are is worse for them.. mwahahaha! and yes, Neji cried. strange, strange things going on here.. yes its snowing.. lee has been in there a _long_ time. oh and i just realized in the first chapter that i said Shino and Kiba burned the body.. whoops. xD

Neji: Sometimes Fate takes away what you believe in the most, and when that's gone, what else is there to believe in?


	8. Hidden Scars, Hidden Destruction

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

+**Neji+**

Hidden Scars, Hidden Destruction

_Heat against your skin heart a sound you can't ignore  
Fate a game played you can't win it like you always could  
A nightshade closer to the actual moonstone eyes  
Glinting like sheet metal until the sun broke the clouds  
And blinded you like the cold red blood spilled from blackened hearts_

* * *

I'm standing in a clearing rimmed with trees and its cold, wind is blowing from what seems like every direction and it looks like its going to rain. There are thousands of blade scars on the trees, like some long ago battle had transpired here, while it really was, was training. My hands are half clenched and my hair is free from its normal restraints. My feet are pointing straight ahead, and I'm staring at a tree as though it might suddenly move, and if it does, I have to kill it. But I can't see the tree. I can't see anything. I am completely numb.

* * *

Do I remember when the shadows came? Do I remember when Fate dealt me the worst card that had only had been seen on the night of the apocalypse? Do I remember the numbness that washed over me? Do I remember… anything?

No, I can't. I can't remember because I can't be hurt. Because if I'm hurt, that means there's pain. Pain means being alive, and I can't be alive because I can't see anything. Even with my Byakugan, I cannot see a single thread of light, a single cloud, a single leaf. I can't see you, and that means I'm dying, dying of this pain that rips across my chest, seizes my throat and never lets me go. Being alive is better than being dead, Naruto. Surely you know that, because you're not dead, or at least that's what I want. What I want to believe.

But obviously, what I want and what I get are two completely different things. I should have known this; I should have foreseen this coming, this pain. It's so reminiscent of the pain of when I was four, and I became tainted by the darkness that haunts eyes for lifetimes, intoxicating and enthralling until you cannot escape the poison of its sable grasp. My father died.

When he gave himself up for his only brother, his only family. Except I was left behind, not taken into death with him. I wished I could have been. But I mattered for _nothing_ to him, absolutely nothing. He didn't care that I would have to deal with the pain, didn't care that I would be the only one left. He didn't care that once he was gone, I would be forced into servitude by the same man he gave his life up for. He didn't, didn't care.

He didn't care that there would be blood on my hands so young, didn't care that I would fade away, didn't care that I would have no friends, didn't care that I would look so much like him and be so hated because of it. That I would become a caged bird, and live every day wishing to be freed while knowing that it would never happen. When he died, my life was rent into pieces.

I never saw them take his body away.

Once he was gone, I forced myself to be cold, distant. I knew how much it hurt to get close to someone, and then to have them ripped away. It was worse than the loneliness that struck me, worse than the emptiness I felt when people asked me about my friends, or my family. The pain was worse than anything ever given to me by a kunai, shruiken, kodachi, spear, knife, sword, or blade of any kind.

It was the pain of love unrequited, the pain of love unheeded, or ever felt at all. It was the pain of friendship, and nothing anyone could offer me would be enough to make me take down my walls and love again. Feel again. I couldn't allow myself to feel, because feeling was weakness. I never allowed myself to cry, for crying was weakness as well.

Weakness could not be tolerated. Weaknesses wouldn't make me great, weaknesses wouldn't destroy the Main House and all that they held above me, taunting me with their superiority everyday. Weaknesses would destroy me, friends would slow me down, and family would just create problems that could not be solved without pain. Everything was a weakness, and so I tolerated none of it.

I buried myself in studies of ancient arts: Hakkeshou, Byakugan, Kaiten, all of my clan's greatest accomplishments. But their superiority made them weak, made them overlook things. I overlooked you at first, Naruto. I thought you wouldn't win, like Hinata. For your determination did not mean skill, did not mean you could beat me.

Besides, you knew none of my pain, knew none of the treachery that I had endured to get to that point. I thought Fate was on my side. I should have known better. Fate is on no ones side, and it is tricky. I thought the pain from my past would be enough fuel to beat you. I thought that my determination to be acknowledged by my Uncle would be enough. But I knew, knew that my pain would not be enough. You held a strange light within you, something my Byakugan had never seen before. It was something that I had never held, something that no matter how many techniques I mastered, I could never have.

It was life. You brought it to me, Naruto. You brought it back from where it lingered, hidden in the shadows. You brought determination back to me, through that simple fight, you brought life. I never believed you could do it, change destiny. I could never change destiny, so why could you?

I remember something now, in this fog that clouds my eyes. I remember, that when we were children, we were innocent. Only, we were never children. Ninja can never be children.

We were taught to kill, to hate, to harm, to thrive in the shadows of life. We were taught to relish in the rabid pain of killing, the euphoria of death. We were taught to kill with passion and to live without feeling. You can never be a child after you kill someone. But you were always different.

You never seemed to be tainted by anything.

You were always innocent.

You were always pure, clean, and guileless.

You loved the sweet smell of the trees; you loved the sound of birds chirping.

Even when Sasuke left, you were pure. But you changed, darkened somewhat. Even with my Byakugan I could not find your white heart in the depths of your red body. You became impenetrable, unbreakable. You did not allow yourself to feel, to be compassionate, to accept, to live. You did not allow anyone to touch you, to hug you, or embrace you in their sorrows.

You were always alone.

You allowed no one to wipe away your tears, to brush away your sorrows and your pain. You allowed no one to see the tears that ran down your face as you realized what he was running to, and running away from. You allowed no one to touch you, for if they did, you would break. And you could not break, for you were our hope, and if you did not believe, none of us would. You allowed no one to see the tears, your fears breaking and shattering and healing in a strange, demented way until they were unrecognizable, and then became new terrors.

But I knew. I knew your heart was breaking, saw the shell that you deftly crafted around your eyes and through your soul that shielded you from the outside world. I saw the sphere that you constructed around your heart, so like my Kaiten; a Heavenly Spin that never ended and took no physical energy, but heart to manipulate and create.

I saw your pain, watched as it was reflected in your deep blue eyes, watched as it drained you of all your untouchable power. You were dying, Naruto, and no one could stop it.

You were becoming like me.

Cold, empty, and without a reason to live but to avenge. To rescue Sasuke, and avenge your near-death. It was all you had left, this urge to resolve and rid yourself of the pain he had caused you. For no matter how many times the physical pain overwhelmed your senses, it was not enough. You could not be saved by the pain all the time.

Why did you close yourself off, Naruto? You should have known that it would only bring pain. I knew that it would be worse for you, but still, I could do nothing, for I had closed myself off long ago. Although you brought life to me, you could not completely fill in the space that my father had left. His shoes were too big for you to fill, his presence too large for even your words and life and smiles to compensate for, his love too much for even you to give.

* * *

Tears cloud my eyes, and finally, I can see. Or, at least I think so. I see Lee, jumping at the chuunin, pounding his fist into the chuunin's face, again and again. I see him shaking the shoulders of the chuunin, demanding answers, demanding, demanding, demanding, but never receiving. For the chuunin can't breathe, cant speak, blood is trailing from his lips and he is limp in Lee's hands. I know this is a memory, for everyone is blurred at the edges, and I can see myself, standing in the corner, watching this transpire.

I see Tenten leap forward and drag Lee away from the chuunin who lies there, looking like he is in death's embrace. Lee struggles in Tenten's arms, and I know she can't hold him. He's too strong, and too far gone. He rips away and bolts out the door, leaving Tenten on the ground, looking as though she's still trying to hold his ghost. I can see there are tears in her eyes and she is shaking. No one has moved from where they stand, until I see myself step forward.

I know what I'm going to do. _No. No. No. Don't do it! _I want to cry out to my body as it slides forward, without a soul, without a heart inside that cold, broken shell that you cracked so long ago. But you never bothered to come back and heal it, so it remained broken. I see the puffs of dirt as my sandals slide across the ground and I wonder why I'm shuffling. I see my heart harden, deep within my bandaged chest, can see the spite and venom and hate roiling upwards towards my throat, ready to destroy destroy destroy anything. Hate, I can feel it, taste it in the air. My body is full of it, this pain that's transformed, mutated into hate and anger, for I never knew what to do with pain.

_Pathetic. It was his destiny to die. It is everyone's destiny to die._ I see myself look down at Tenten and say that; I see how she starts trembling again, tears falling from her eyes. And I suddenly realize she knows how to deal with the pain. I never knew, for when my father died, I was too young to fully understand the complications of his death. What it might do to me, how it might scar me. Tenten's parents died when she was seven, and she never seemed to carry the same amount of pain as me. She let herself break, she let herself grow from the past, learn and move on.

I never could. Moving on was something I could not do. I was able to kill people without a second thought, was able to take out a thousand men with my fingers, and I thought that made me strong. However, I could not move on. I was incapable of releasing the pain I had kept locked away, hidden beneath a thousand layers deep, resting within my broken heart. But it was like wrapping glass with a towel and smashing it with a sledgehammer. The glass would still break, but the fabric would keep it intact. I never allowed myself to break, and in turn, I brought myself more pain. I had crafted a titanium sphere around my heart.

I saw myself walk away, not shuffling anymore. I saw how I fed off of the pain I caused others, because I wanted them to feel the same as I had. I wanted them to break, I wanted them to shatter into a thousand pieces and never heal. I wanted them to be like me, except think I was stronger, better, for it seemed like I was never hurt. I wanted them to hate me, because if they hated me, they could never love me, and then I would never hurt. Because I would never love again.

That's why I wanted to hate you, Naruto, so badly. I wanted you to break, tear, shatter, be rent into thousands of millions of billions of pieces by my words. I wanted you to hate me so badly that it hurt, and then, you would remember me. For that was the one thing I was afraid of, dying without someone to remember me. If you loved someone and they died, you would eventually move on. But if someone you hated, died, then you would remember forever. I wanted to breed in you such hatred, such utter contempt and abhorrence that you would never forget me. Such loathing and disgust that you would look down on your hands, and remember when your blood had flowed down your fingers, because of me.

I look down at my hands now, and realize that I can see blood flowing down them. The memory is over, gone. I wonder where that blood came from; I thought I was just standing in the middle of the woods. Then I look up, and I see two deep impressions in the oak tree in front of me. I look down at my hands again, turn them over, and see my ripped knuckles, even through the bandages around my right arm. I can see the blood and the dirt indented into my skin, through my skin and right to my bones, and I know that I'll forever remember you, Naruto.

I hated you for your strength, your determination and your disgust for my so-called preached 'destiny'. I hated that you could beat me and still stand and say that you could release me from my pain. Because I didn't want to be released, back then. The pain had become such a part of me, the hatred had merged with my soul, and I was afraid when you took it away, I would be incomplete and broken. That there wouldn't be any more of me, and everyone would laugh and forget I was ever there. I hated that you could do that to me, break my walls so easily, and want to be my friend even after all I had done to you.

But I loved you for it too. I wanted to be you, wanted to be so strong and not be afraid to care and lose like I had been. I wanted to care, but I was afraid, Naruto. No one ever knew, but I was. But then you came, and changed my entire world with your determined words.

There's someone here, I can tell. I don't turn around, but can tell from the sounds of their breathing and footfalls, that it's Tenten. She's never believed in destiny either, but she never shows it.

"Neji?" She asks, her voice soft. I don't want to turn around; I don't want to see her face. I can't bear to see one of the people who have always wanted to be my friend, hurt. I can't bear to see anyone else's pain but my own. I'm afraid that I might break again.

"Neji?" She asks again, and I can hear her walking closer to me. I can feel her tears, the worry and pain emanating from her is so thick it's nearly unbearable. Naruto, Naruto, save me.

She comes up behind me, rests a hand on my shoulder, but still I do not move. I try, desperately, to reconstruct the walls that have fallen, but it's futile. She will finally see the true me, the broken, fallen, _pathetic_ me, and be disgusted. She will hate me, like I used to hate everyone.

"Neji?" She's in front of me now, her brown eyes wide. I can see the salt trails down her face, but her eyes are clear. How can she be so clear, after something like this? I want to hate her again, but it's too hard. I'm too tired. Her hand is resting on my cheek, and I can finally feel some warmth in my cold, numb heart.

Suddenly, everything blacks out, and I collapse into her. I just can't do anything anymore. I can't! I hear her voice, high and afraid again, calling my name as I fall into the darkness that once cradled my heart.

* * *

I'm lying in the darkness when you come to visit me. It's a warm, tangible, sticky darkness that surrounds me and keeps me alive. It's as though I'm immersed in someone's blood, eyes closed but the warmth still reaching me, surrounding me in all of its macabre glory. It's making me look like I am dying, while I am the only one still alive.

You're here, I can see you. You look kind and alive, still in your orange jumpsuit, blue eyes happy and clear. You don't look dead at all. You're looking down at me, lying in the middle of an endless pool of dark water. It's as though you're bringing light into this place of nothingness, this empty heart, this empty room that has no corners and no windows. You're a spotlight, and I'm in the background, wondering when I will be on stage again.

You offer me a hand, and I take it, unknowing. Your skin is icily cold against mine in this place of endless darkness. Suddenly, you don't look the same, your eyes are slits and your whole body exudes anger.

I want to say your name, but my mouth doesn't open. I want to scream, I want to run, I want to breathe again, because this darkness is choking me. But then I realize you're choking me, your hands around my neck, squeezing the life right out of me. _No!_ You're the one who saved me, and now you're killing me. I try to fight back, but you won't let me. I can't move. I'm going to die, aren't I, Naruto?

I will die with you, and not be remembered because you died first and second is only that, second. You will take me to hell or to heaven or to wherever you go after you die. I will go with you, follow you obediently because that's the only thing I know. I only know obedience. I never knew how to truly fight, to fight to protect who you truly loved because I could love none. I only knew fighting through obedience, and now you will take my debt that I owe to you and make me die with you. I won't be remembered.

Tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I have forgotten what it is like to cry, but now, at death's door in its silken grip, I remember. I bow my head down until my forehead touches your wrist, and let my tears slide down your skin. _Yes, master, I will do what you ask of me. I will live, die, breathe, fight for you. I will follow you into the dark, into the depths of death. For you, and only you._

Suddenly, you let me go. Your icy hands fall back to your sides, and you smile at me in the darkness. You are kind again; I can see it in your eyes. I feel someone shaking at my shoulders, someone calling my name in the distance. It's crackly and it seems like its going through a field of static, but its there and it's calling me. You raise one hand and wave it.

_Goodbye, Neji. I will always remember you. Remember Neji, always remember to—_But then you're gone, and your sentence is left unfinished.

I want to race after you, to find out what you were going to say, but I'm being ripped through the darkness. The black is whirling around me, and I'm sucked into the bottom of the tornado by unseen hands. I close my eyes and in memory, I see you, waving at me.

* * *

I open my eyes and see Tenten, crying and shaking my shoulders. I'm in a hospital, a thousand needles stuck into my arms and an oxygen mask over my face. I hear a steady beeping in the background and I know that I'm alive again. Tsunade and Shizune are standing in the back of the room, but when they hear the beeps, they turn around to look at me. Tenten's looking at me to, but now she's smiling and I wonder how she can smile through all of the pain I brought to her. You and me, Naruto, the pain we bring.

Tsunade is doing something, and Shizune slowly leads Tenten away, through the white door, while Tsunade pulls the curtains shut. White, white, white, and then only darkness.

* * *

I am let out of the hospital in time for your funeral, Naruto. I pull on the black robes, tying them around the waist. They fit strangely, but are soft against my skin. They seem so strange, so dark against the white of my skin. Like yin and yang.

We walk in silence among the snow, as it is winter now. The snow is almost more silent than everyone in the procession, but not quite. Our silence seems to be eternal, while snow can scream and howl and whip around us in our silence. There is one more thing I do before we stand to see someone talk about your life and your accomplishments. I slowly undo the hitai-ate from around my forehead and let it fall away. I let everyone see my pain; I let everyone see my curse, my weakness, my reason. Today, I will let no one wonder why.

A girl walks up to the podium, her jade eyes whitened by lack of sleep, and bags are under her eyes. Her pink hair is stringy and falls about her gaunt face. She seems familiar and now I remember her. Sakura, I think her name is. You loved her, didn't you?

I think you loved Sasuke more though, hated him more. You wanted to be acknowledged by him more than by her, because he was your equal while she, with her pretty pink hair and green eyes, was less than you. She meant less to you. That's why you were so determined to bring Sasuke back, for if she acknowledged you for that, she would then be your equal.

She opens her mouth to say something, then screams your name. She screams that you're not dead, you can't be, and that Shino and Kiba are liars. Liars, liars, all of them! She screams as though she is in pain, as though you're hurting her with your memory. As though you're still alive.

* * *

After the funeral, Tenten, I, and Gai-sensei go to the hospital. I'm reminded painfully that it is a mental hospital, for people who are insane. We're going there because Lee has been locked up since you died, Naruto. We walk through the white corridors, and it's cold. Colder than the snow was, and more desolate, because this place is filled with people without souls, without life. No one belongs here.

We go into Lee's room, still in our funeral clothes. He looks up at us, and his eyes are so empty, so completely drained of any life that it's painful to look at. He's so vacant, so listless. His unacknowledged pain is too much to bear, and a single tear runs down my face.

I don't know where it comes from, this tear. For it doesn't feel like it is coming from my eyes, it does not feel like water nor salt. It feels like a ghost of my past, falling down from the skies to skim my skin, making it seem like I am crying, when all it really is, is rain.

And when he speaks, it does not sound like the person I knew. It sounds like a broken violin, trying once again to play as beautifully as before, but all the while knowing, that it cannot.

Then Tenten takes my hand, and leads me away. I think of you, holding my throat, making me realize that pain cannot save me. And I as I look down the white corridor, so empty, like his eyes were, I see a white dove with a blue ribbon tied about its neck, flying away. A gauze strip floats to the floor, and I know that the dove's wing was broken before, but now, it is healed.

* * *

woowwww... finally thats done. i just watched memoirs of a geisha! thats what this story was originally named after, because i had just read it! so long ago.. i wanted to post before the new year, and i was planning to do it yesterday, on my sisters birthday, but there was no time.. im sorry it took so long, nearly three weeks! T.T please forgive me! wow this was totally the opposite from what i wanted to do for neji, but thats okay... i hope everyone likes this! and for the reviews, everyone is so nice! its the best present i could ever have. sorry for the NejiTen but.. hehe im a sucker for it.. besides it can just be seen as friendship if you want.

Tell me, do you want me to do Konohamaru, or Tenten next.. i'm not really sure what to write for either of them.. or i could just do Kakashi.. soo.. tell me what you think and ill write it as soon as i can!


	9. Those Eyes

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

_Hey, Dad._

_This place, you brought me here  
Dropped me off and didn't say a word  
As I opened the door  
And walked inside._

_When they asked me for my name  
I almost said yours.  
Because I was so sure  
That you were supposed to be here  
Instead of me._

**+Kakashi+**

Those Eyes

* * *

_You're dead_, Obito said. He had reached up to Kakashi's plate-metal covered forehead and flicked his finger against the symbol of the leaf. The sound had _pinged_ across the empty clearing, and a shot of pain had gone through Kakashi's head. But then Obito had looked down and seen the kunai pointed to his heart, clutched by Kakashi's gloved hand. 

_I'm dead, _Obito said, looking almost forlornly down at the kunai pressing into the fabric of his shirt. If only Kakashi had ripped the shirt around and looked at the back, stared at the back with his two normal eyes would he have seen the same symbol that he would see many years later. He knew it was there anyways, but it was a useless detail that wasn't actually helpful until after _that day_. The day when he had to know every bit, every part of Obito to remember him perfectly.

He never gave it much thought, this symbol. Maybe he should have, for it was the sign of the Uchiha, the sign of pain. It was the sign of death. It was the sign of his own destruction.

And then, when Sasuke had walked away in much of the same way that Obito had, killing, massacring, obliterating his past self in the hope for a better one, he had seen it again. A hope that was tangible and unbreakable, yet so far away, so unreachable it should have just been impossible and unreal in the first place.

Kakashi couldn't hope, couldn't rest his life on something as _childish_ as _hope_ because he believed that hope was nothing and now was forever as long as you wanted it to be. But he never knew that hope could be forever too, as long as you wanted it to be.

_Yes, I suppose you are. _Kakashi had said, and walked away without a word. Maybe he didn't want it to be.

* * *

_He's dead,_ Rin said. 

_Obito, Obito, he's dead. Dead!_ She cried at him, flinging Obito's blood all over him, drenching his face, his clothes, his vest, his mask in blood. Until he was unrecognizable, until he was blood soaked and dead himself, and until the blood created a mask of its own. _You're always dead, Kakashi,_ Obito had said. _Dead behind that mask._

_He's dead, he's dead Kakashi! What are you going to do_? Rin had cried. And she had cried, screaming that Obito was dead until her throat was hoarse and she had doubled over, attempting to vomit. Until she could get it out of her, this death-like sickness. This death that would haunt her and him until forever ended and oblivion began.

_Dead dead dead dead dead._

But Kakashi had just stood there, stoic and unmoving as always. And while she cried and screamed until there was nothing left but emptiness, which would eventually drain to leave _space_ through which nothing could sift, for even emptiness has an end too, he had been unmoving. A million different things were flying through his mind, sticking together, tumbling over one another until they created a pile which blocked the hole out of his mind, and thus crushing everything he was thinking together into an excruciating mind-stop.

_Please, please, please just stop. Please just let it stop._

But it would not stop, and he could not speak, for words seemed superficial at that moment, seemed so plastic. So fake. Nothing in his vocabulary could describe the ripping sensation across his chest that everything seemed to fall through at once, leaving him to stand until everything came back. And in this moment of numbness he could be killed, yet it was as though Time were taking pity on him, and letting him live with the burden of carrying his best friend with him all of the time, not just in memory, but in mind too. And with that, he carried the pain of the Uchiha, the tragedy of the clan that had killed, murdered, _slaughtered_ itself in a rage of self-righteousness.

_Those eyes, they let him live to see the destruction of yet another. _For many years later, he had seen that _same_ symbol, that symbol that had once been so prestigious and was now associated with death and pain and blood of everyone you once loved on your hands, and in your mind. He had _seen_ the symbol, he had _seen_ the signs, had _seen_ the pain and the blood in the eyes of the other that he recognized from the past, and had _known_ the hope in his heart that had blossomed like the narcissus flower when Echo had realized that she could never have him, her fake-lover, Narcissus. Just a reminder, a remainder of the past, a figment that wouldn't go away.

_Those eyes._

He had seen, but nothing had happened. He had _tried,_ maybe not really _tried_, but tried as hard as he could, yet it wasn't enough. He couldn't show them the past, couldn't make them realize their mistakes and learn from his that had been made so long ago; those mistakes that had, in the end, ruined him. He couldn't force them, yet he wished he could. And that wish had languished in his heart like a rusty sword. He couldn't pull it out, yet he couldn't leave it in.

He was destined to die. Just like the eye he held in his heart forever, the one that looked into the future yet remained inexorably forever in the past. Obito was gone, yet Kakashi carried the burden of a thousand and one deaths. He, the one who lived.

Maybe he didn't want anyone else to live.

* * *

_She's dead,_ Yondaime said. 

_Who?_ He had responded. Yet immediately, he had known. He had known who it was the moment he walked into the village, back from yet another mission. A mission to kill and forget everything in that one rabid moment of killing.

Perhaps, he thought, he could escape. He could escape from the deaths on his shoulders, escape for just _one _moment in which he could catch his breath from all the running he was doing. Perhaps for just one more moment he could languish in the moment, the forever moment that always had an end.

Yet he never could, and he was forced to look in the past as the door to the Hokage's room slammed shut behind him, locking him out of yet another world he could never be a part of. _Because of this burden_, Obito whispered to him, and he had seen. He had seen the pained look on the Hokage's face, seen his old sensei's defenses crack and disappear, seen him break down.

_You can't break down, can you Kakashi?_ Obito hissed in his ear. _Come on, just once. You didn't even cry at my funeral, merely looked down at the empty pyre with disgust. Don't think I don't know. I'm always here for you, Kakashi. I'm with you in ways you'd never even be able to imagine. Always and forever, tied together we'll be. Our fate's strings are all twisted together and loop-de-looped. Without me, you would be dead. Without you, as would I. We are one. We are—_

Stop. Pause. Freeze. End. Quit. Stop it, Obito, just stop it.

_It's the end Kakashi, yet not for you. Another one that died just for you, your name on her lips as she passed away. You'll see it happen again and again until you are the only one left, left in the moment of the Rat's Dance where slowly, agonizingly, you'll consume yourself. Dripping, bleeding from a thousand self-inflicted wounds that you'll lick and bite again. Death you'll become, and slide down that river of lost souls, you will. None will come with you, and none will lead you forward into the depths of the fire. You will be alone, forever alone in life and in death, because you are fated to be as such. I will be there with you, but it will only be half of me. Half of you, and half of me._

Obito, I told you. Stop. I can't listen anymore.

Yet Obito kept going, talking the truth because only Obito knew the future; kept talking forever until Kakashi couldn't listen anymore, and nearly wanted to cut his ears out. Plunge the kunais deep into his head until all of the movements that Obito's eyes caught, all of the sounds that Obito made, all of the distractions that Obito made would just _stop_ for once, and he could live. Breathe, maybe, one last breath before complete death.

But Obito stopped him from reaching down and slipping his fingers around the cloth barriers that protected the kunai. Obito stopped him from touching the slick metal; Obito's eyes stopped him from getting hit with a single blade that might hurt him; Obito's training stopped him from dying inside like he might have.

But now Obito was gone, and yet in his head, constantly, constantly, raining down insults and commentaries, useless words and thoughts that clouded Kakashi's own muddled brain.

And for once, Kakashi couldn't get him to stop, for when he had died, so had Kakashi.

* * *

_He's dead, _Sandaime said. 

This time he didn't try to play dumb. He had always known that it would happen, he always knew that one day, he would be the last one standing, the last one alive because he always had _something to do._ Some mission to complete. A book to buy. A person to talk to. There was always something that kept him alive, something that kept him going on this grueling pace that would otherwise crush him.

Yet he didn't know what kept him alive anymore. There was no Rin, no Sensei, and no Obito.

There was no Father, there was no Mother, there were never any siblings or lovers or children. There was nothing. He was alone, and it seemed as though this was what it was meant to be like.

He was the phoenix, the everlasting, ever present, eternal phoenix. The one that died after 500 or 1,000 years, but always was reborn. _Always._ There were no other phoenixes like him, there were no other birds like he. But as Neji was, he was also caged in a way he could not describe. At least Neji had someone to blame, someone to hate, someone to push all of his anger at until it collapsed and was set free.

He had no one. They were all dead.

_I hate you sensei. I hate you for dying, I hate you for telling me that Rin was dead, I hate for letting Obito die. I hate you for letting _me _die in ways I cannot tell. I hate you for letting me live through it all; I hate you for the strength you gave me. I hate—I hate—hate—hate—hate you anyways. I hate that you gave me strength and gave me Obito to love and lose._

_I just wish I could hate you more than my very being._

And Kakashi tore away, silently swimming, struggling, and drowning in his thoughts, pretending pretending pretending behind that mask that he _did not care_, for he _could not care._ He said nothing as he flew through the air, his eyes closed in a way that would have been called reckless if one of his eyes wasn't always closed. Closed to keep Obito from seeing it all fall apart, even though Obito saw it anyways. Obito _knew_ in ways that Kakashi didn't, and Kakashi couldn't understand why he didn't know.

I wish I could hate you, Obito.

_You already do.

* * *

_

_He's dead,_ Naruto said.

I'm sorry, was the only thing he could say. He hated the old man for all he knew of his sensei. He hated the way he could read into everyone's thoughts, see all of the pain and the faults, yet believe that the person could heal themselves.

_I couldn't heal myself, Sandaime. I couldn't heal myself from the pain you gave me, all bundled up into two words. Separated by a space that can't be filled. It's a space that reminds me so of the space in my heart, the space where you sliced oh so cleanly with a knife to open up my insides to the world. I couldn't heal my mind. _

_I can't provide for these kids. I can't help these kids._

_Don't give them to me. They don't understand, just like I didn't understand why anyone had to die. I knew, but I didn't understand. Why did Obito have to die? Rin? Sensei? Father? Mother? Why, why did they have to leave me? They believe this ninja business is all a game. They believe in invincibility. They believe in life, something even I never understood._

_I still don't understand._

_I _promised _them. I promised they wouldn't die, I promised they wouldn't be able to leave me without a fight. But they did, each by something different. One, a crushing boulder. One, a kunai. One, an ancient animal. One, a forbidden justu. _

_How are you going to die, Naruto? How will death claim you? _

_Death claimed your father, and your mother was never really alive. But what of me, where will I go? What will happen to me?_

_Do you know? Ever since Sasuke left, you were all I had._

_I promise you that you won't die. You'll be immortal like the phoenix I am. The everpresent phoenix. I'll take you into my arms and curl you up in my feathers. You'll breathe in the soot and the sun and the fire and become the phoenix you were always meant to be. Then I won't be alone in the skies, and when I die, so will you, and we will be born again. Together, for right now I need someone to hold, I need someone to be there when there is nothing but the sun._

_I need someone that believes in life and invincibility and never ending happiness. Someone who _believes _in something. Because right now I cant believe in anything._

_Please, teach me something. For I cant teach you anything but pain and death, I can only bring to you the worst in life. Teach me happiness. _

Yet Naruto had silently rejected his offer, and taken off into the sunset to find Sasuke once again.

* * *

_He's dead, _Iruka said. 

_Don't tell me that!_ He cried. He grabbed Iruka roughly by the shoulders and shook him. _Everyone who tells me that dies next! You can't die because I can't live, and someone needs to teach me. You need to teach me something. Anything. Teach me happiness!_

Iruka had just looked back up at him, his eyes streaming with tears. His hair was mussed up and he was all covered with dirt. "I can't teach you happiness, Kakashi. I don't have any left to give you."

No, no, no, no, no, no. He can't be dead.

_I can't do this anymore_, he thought. _I can't keep pretending all is right and true, and that inside I'm not really dying. I can't keep this up anymore. Even this mask is breaking and it's falling apart, and I'm falling apart with it. Everything's coming to an end. An end… An end…_

He felt his legs breaking beneath him; he felt everything falling away, his pretentions, his morals, his hopes (which were so unreal they were almost ethereal), his life. What was it to begin with, his life? Did it even matter?

_Did I even matter, Obito? Even though you died for me and Rin and sensei, and even though we all never ended up living, did I even matter? Or was Rin the last thought in your head, the last word on your lips? What of you, Naruto? Who was your last thought? Who did you think of in that last sweet split moment before death? The moment of release._

_Someone, someone please tell me. Tell me, Iruka! _

Iruka knelt next to Kakashi, crossing his arms across his chest as though that would keep the fire away. Iruka was crying, the tears creating red marks over his cheeks as the salty liquid plopped softly into his lap.

"He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. Dead… Dead! Dead, Kakashi! How can he be dead? How could—How could Naruto—_Naruto_—die? How could this have happened? How can he be _dead?_"

_Shut up! Are you trying to bring death to yourself? _Kakashi yelled at Iruka, yelling until his throat hurt and there were no more words lodged in there. Iruka sounded so much like Rin, so much like sensei, so much like Obito and everyone who had ever known him.

_Know him and die, _Obito whispered.

_Shut UP! _But Iruka kept crying, kept babbling on and on about Naruto and about death until Kakashi couldn't take it anymore.

Kakashi grabbed Iruka's forearms and yanked the man's body towards him. The cloth covering his mouth was gone, yet no one seemed to notice, least of all Iruka. But then Kakashi's mouth was on his and Iruka couldn't speak anymore through the heavy scent of disillusioned hopes crashing and burning. The tears kept falling all over the ground, the soil seemed soaked with them.

Kakashi could taste the pungent flavor of redblood sins and the faraway tang of alcohol but he was nowhere and he was nothing. Iruka was nothing, but at least he was half and perhaps he could give some to Kakashi, even if it was only for a moment.

_Please, please just lend me some of your sins, some of your pain. Lend me something to lay myself on, so that the executioners may come and take off my head. Please, just one last thing._

And then there was a silence so great it was almost a sound.

* * *

_We are all destined to die,_ his father had said, right before he disappeared into the room that claimed him, Kakashi's room. 

He broke.

* * *

wah x3 kakashi! srry people who wanted tenten, but not right now... Nam Pham died. i knew him, he sat next to me. why does everyone die? (the story so far doesnt make much sense. good luck.) iruka or tenten? 


	10. Just Say Goodbye

**Memoirs of a Shinobi**

* * *

Just Say Goodbye

**+Iruka+**

_attach an anvil to the steel strings of my heart.  
__watch the bloody-pretty organ go hurtling over the edge._

* * *

Empty. Empty. Empty.

Empty like your words, empty like your promises, empty like my words, empty like the skies, empty like the night, and empty like my body under my skin. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY LIKE YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING PROMISES.

YOU PROMISED, NARUTO. YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD ALWAYS LIVE.

How could you break that promise?

That _one_ promise that means the most; carries the most weight. The _one_ promise that should never be broken. How could you do this to me—to everyone?

I've been screaming so much, been crying so much, I don't know if I can even speak anymore. Everything hurts now; I can't move without crying out in pain. I don't even know where any of this comes from.

My throat hurts. Can you swallow for me? I don't think I can see anymore; why don't you just take away my eyes? At least they wouldn't burn anymore. Please.

Please, Naruto, come back…

It's hard to leave you behind when there's so much around me reminding me of you. There's a picture on the wall of you, and I stare at it sometimes, wondering if you can see me through the eyes of your picture. My thoughts are drowning in memories of you. It's like you don't want me to forget you, even though I have already tried to several times. I don't think I can ever forget about you, but I'm going to try.

I have dreams about you returning, but they are to remain dreams, or break the fragile barrier between fantasy and reality. If they were to break that vapor-thin ribbon between sleeping and waking, life would slowly unravel.

I want you to leave from these dreams, so I can finally stop dreaming, can finally start living, can finally stop making up fantasies and focus more on reality than I am, because I know I have hundreds of daydreams everyday. Yet I never truly believe they will come true. I want them to, but they shall never break the daylight hours, nor grace the deepest nights.

If these dreams were to come true, it would break the gossamer mosquito-webbing separating my dreams from reality. They would clash, intertwine, churn together until I am caught in the middle of a maelstrom that I can never escape until I pull the plug and it drains out.

It's this venomous hope that feeds these delirious dreams: this beautiful, poisonous hope-flower with hearts for petals, lies for thorns, the stem a thick memory that begins to wilt under times' heavy hand, that rests upon my heart; twisting, twining around it until I cannot help but be possessed, be consumed by it. I cannot help but smell its fragrance that eludes me even now as I struggle to find pure hope yet again in the face of adversity and shame.

Your memory is preventing me from believing in myself and anyone else; I can't live anymore as long as my disillusioned hope rests in my heart. So please just break me, even from behind death's curtain, so I can move on from these memories of you that are as hollow as your eyes in the photograph.

I need to walk away from this past that's clinging to me like a tainted virus that's ready to seep into my skin. I reach up and take your picture down from the pin that holds it up, and fiddle with the edges of the rumpled photograph with my tired fingers. Your eyes gaze back at me, a half-smile poised on your frozen lips and I rub the smooth surface over your face.

But then I remember your betrayal—your inability to keep the promise that you _swore _you would always keep, and you always kept your word. In a fit of anger I tear the picture into tiny pieces and throw them in the air, away from me, wherever else they can go. As I watch the parts of the photograph float to the ground, I realize I'm crying at the unfairness of it all.

I want to see you again; I want to watch you smile at me; I want you here in front of me so I won't hurt like I do when you're dead. I want you to hurt me, break me, make my insides ache so badly it's like I can't breathe. I want you to make me let go, forcefully, purposefully, in lucid, vivid Technicolor, so I'm forced to accept this tragic ending rather than hang onto fragments of the past, and the hope that clings to my heart. I want these memories to stop harassing me, the smells and thoughts of years past bombarding me so I only get a few moments of peace.

It hurts so badly to be here, to be alive when you're not here to live life with. How can I be expected to live when my 'son' is dead? It's like taking away my lungs, or my heart, or ripping open my chest, and expecting me to live afterwards. But I guess I always expected too much.

We human beings never learn, do we? After we begin to hurt, begin to break, we start to heal. We begin to search for something new to set our sights on, something better, something completely opposite from what we had craved previously. We believe that this time, something better will happen; that we won't break like we did before.

Unfortunately, it is this hope that drives me to believe that you're still alive, the hope that languishes in my chest even now, and was fresh just then. It is this hope, this seed that grew and bloomed into a beautiful flower that is destroying me. It is this hope that fed everything I knew back then, that now, months later, begins to make me hurt more than any broken promise could.

Leave me alone. I'm desperate for just a moment of peace, a moment of alone time that I can be nothing but myself. There's nothing in this tirade of emotions and voices that rolls on inside my head like a wave that never ends, never stops, never begins.

No more vicious cycles of waiting for something that will never come, waiting for someone that will never be there. No more memories.

Oh but I wish, and it hurts to wish for something that will never be true.

Memory is a cursed thing, and I wonder briefly why people possess it. It's obvious it brings nothing but misery to those that have it, yet so why do we remember? Why is it that when we so desperately want to remember something, there's nothing left: no more laughing as I chase after you, no more buying ramen for dinner for you, no more teaching you and you failing miserably, and me taking you out again to make you feel better.

There will be no more meetings, no more love. I will never hug you and send you away to Kakashi for him to teach you to kill. I won't ever be able to protect you again; I won't be able to fight and protest for your release when the village condemned you to death when the Kyuubi was released. I will never be able to lend you my couch for the night, when your apartment was trashed by every hateful villager in Konoha.

There will never be any more chases around the village when you pull a prank; no more condescension when I caught you; no more yelling and screaming and 'Oh, Naruto, why wont you ever GROW UP?'

Oh, memory is a cursed thing. We manipulate our memories (all of our memories, the good the bad and the ugly) to display happiness, to be good and wonderful and nothing terrible left in its hidden depths. We cherish what we once cursed.

I must admit, there were times when I hated you, but I kept it inside. Everyone hates people they love, especially when they don't live up to expectations. Why, Naruto, couldn't you live up to expectations? Just. This. Once. Why couldn't you keep your promise?

I try to forget your smile now, but it keeps coming back. Like a chronic disease, it clings to me and never fully lets me go.

It just hurts; hurts so much when you love someone and they will never return. Or that you believe in them, but they leave and there is no true ending.

It doesn't even have to be a happy ending; it just has to be an ending.

Because, right now, there isn't one, and I'm just fading away.

Why won't life grant me this one last wish? Why do I have to care even after you've been gone a year. Yes, that's right—a _year_. Do you have any _idea _how long that is? To keep thinking of someone, to keep wishing for them to return and say, "Hey, guys! What did I miss?"

But I guess you're not going to do that. No one ever does that.

Why should you have to return when there's nothing left to return to? A village that shunned you when it should have celebrated your sacrifice; friends that laughed at you behind your back, wanted and waited and wished for you to fail, but pretended to believe in you. Enemies that wanted your body but refused to accept you for who you were. They were basically a bunch of liars and cheats and cruel, cruel friends (no true friends but me, Naruto, I'm your only friend, but I'm leaving, slowly, slowly.) I know you didn't like this world, but you will not spare us a human courtesy and say goodbye. Just say goodbye. Somehow. A note, a sign, something.

It's so simple. Just two words.

Good. Bye.

And then it will be over. Why didn't you just say it before you left, to me, to Kakashi, to Sakura, to anyone? My heart hurts when I think of how easily it could be over—it makes me sad that all this feeling, all this time, all this heart has gone to waste, but I will be happy if it ends, because it happened. Why can't you just say goodbye?

Say goodbye.

Fuck it, you're never going to speak to me again.

* * *

i'm sorry if this sucks, and im sorry if this doesnt live up to your expectations. me and iruka just arent buds, and so this chapter was hard to write. besides, i had to concentrate on school for a while-- a long while, maybe, but it was needed.besides, theres this tricky thing that fellow author(ess)s would understand... its called writers block. oh, and if this is different from what i usually write, sorry. this stuff is actually taken from my journal entries, from various points in my life and situations that differ entirely from what this story is about, and i somehow just wrangled them into a completely unintelligible story that doesnt quite fit with the rest of the entries. so, you get to know a little more about me... i guess. they dont make much sense unless you're me. ill shut up now.

next: tsunade is just so tired of everything.


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